


To Pay What is Due

by Jude81



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Vomiting-Sorry, M/M, Romance, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-04-08 01:55:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 50
Words: 204,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4286214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jude81/pseuds/Jude81
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 2.16. Slowly going mad, a vengeful Clarke hunts down Lexa in order to kill her, but not only does Lexa refuse to die, she refuses to let Clarke go again.</p><p>You can find me on tumblr at: bae-in-maine if you are so inclined. I don't post a lot of original work, unless asked, but I reblog the hell out of Commander Lexa Racooon memes/gifs and any Clexa pickup lines. 'Cuz they are all that is bright and beautiful in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So We Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the shitty summary. This is not Beta'd. This was meant as a humorous one-shot, and now it is an angsty monster with a happy ending. I usually don't post until a work is completed, but I have just finished chapter 18, and I have 43,000 words completed. I think I am 3/4 done with the story. We shall see. I'm hoping for some feedback, so I know if I'm going in the right direction with this. 
> 
> ********************* designates a new scene. These chapters have a lot going on in them, so I put in scene breaks.
> 
> I will post every few days, should be 2x a week, but not sure yet, if I will post on specific days. Anyone have preferences?

Chapter 1: So We Meet Again

She crouched low in the bushes her spear at the ready as she waited for the Commander to show herself. She had been waiting for three hours, since before dawn woke from its slumber. She was cold and tired but resolute. She had come too far to not finish what she had begun.

****************************************

After she destroyed the mountain, she had raged in her guilt and pain, and spent the first few weeks in deep isolation, scavenging in the woods, barely surviving. She had wandered aimlessly, until she had eventually made her way further east to the Boat People. She had a vague recollection of their location, but to this day she still didn’t know if she had somehow subconsciously and yet deliberately sought them out, or if fate had guided her to them. But they had saved her from the oncoming winter.

She had stayed with Luna and her clan through the winter, refusing to stay at first, burdened by the guilt of leaving her people. It wasn’t until Luna had assured her that Heda had ordered the coalition to ensure the survival of the Skaikru by whatever means possible, that she had finally settled down enough to learn to survive in this new era of peace.

The Boat Clan were a relatively peaceful, even simple, clan belonging to the coalition, and their main resource to the coalition wasn’t warriors but food from the sea. So they welcomed her and taught her to hunt and fish, how to preserve food, and make clothing. They taught her to track and scout, taught her how to survive the unbearable cold, how to chop holes in the ice to get fresh water.

They taught her the basics of fighting with sword and spear and bow and arrow. The healers taught her which plants were best used to reduce fevers and fight the winter coughs, which plants could make the strong sicken and even die. They taught her how to navigate the swollen rivers, and how to patch boats, they taught her to survive in times of peace.

They tried to teach her how to heal, but she seemed incapable of letting go of her sorrow. So Luna pushed her to her limit, exhausting her body and her mind, hoping that the need for vengeance wouldn’t take root. But still the nightmares plagued Clarke’s sleep, and she moaned and cried out, only to finally jerk awake in fevered sweats. And Luna watched with worried eyes as Clarke’s body grew stronger, but her mind slowly fractured under the brutality of her guilt and fury.

And all of this she reported to the Heda. 

And then one month ago, Clarke had left and made her way West back towards the new Ton DC that was under construction. She had been told that the Commander had returned to Ton DC to oversee the new construction. This was her chance, and so she had slipped out in the dead of night, back towards Ton DC, her people, and back towards the Commander.

**********************************  
She had been scouting the village for almost two weeks, moving little so as not to attract attention, but seeing much. On the sixth day, she noticed Lexa, no the Commander, had established a pattern. She had come out each morning just at dawn and had walked along a particular trail leading away from the village. She had done this for three days, and now eight days later, Clarke was ready.

She inwardly scoffed that the Commander would walk the same path at the same time each day by herself. Patterns were dangerous, especially for Betrayers. But tomorrow she would walk it no more. She knew once it was done that they would hunt her down and exact a harsh price from her flesh. They would torture her and kill her. She no longer cared, for she knew only with the Commander’s death would the screaming in her head finally cease.

****************************************  
She tightened her grasp on the spear, wishing her hand wasn’t so sweaty. She pretended that it wasn’t nerves, and she wasn’t afraid of what was to come. She reminded herself that she was like the Winter Breath that took root deep in the bone, freezing and strengthening.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly and then another as she watched as the Commander finally came into view. She was dressed in light armor, her sword strapped to her side, her long fingers wrapped around the handle. She walked slowly, almost aimlessly, quietly picking her way through the broken twigs and leaves.

Clarke hefted the spear lightly over her left shoulder and drew back. Three more steps. Two more, one more. She grit her teeth, stood and heaved with all her might right at the unsuspecting Commander.

Except…

Except Heda whirled around, her short sword slicing through the air, cracking the staff of the spear and knocking it to the side. 

Clarke watched aghast as the spear tumbled to the forest floor, splintered and gouged. 

She stood facing Clarke, her face betraying nothing, her short sword at the ready. Clarke noticed her long sword still in its scabbard. 

Clarke was pissed. Royally pissed. 

“You have two swords?!” She yelled, her voice cracking as she kicked the bush she had been crouching behind. She stomped her foot for good measure, absolutely incensed that she hadn’t realized the Commander had two swords.

It occurred to Clarke that she should probably be more concerned about the Commander’s reaction as opposed to the fact that she apparently had two swords, but Clarke had somehow managed to miss this small but vital fact. But she was so angry that she had missed such a vital piece of information that she couldn’t particularly care in the moment whether or not the Commander would gut her like a feral pig. 

Lexa stood patiently waiting for the blonde’s tantrum to pass. She sheathed her short sword under her coat and stalked slowly towards the blonde, noting that she was slimmer but more muscled. Luna had said that she had learned quickly, but she wasn’t a warrior yet. 

“Hello, Clarke.”

No gutting yet. Again, it occurred to Clarke that she was probably not prioritizing her own safety very well, now that she was faced with the Commander. Although, she did look more amused than actually angry, which is probably why the next words simply fell out of Clarke’s mouth, with no conscious effort on her part.

“Fuck you, Lexa.”

Lexa raised an eyebrow at the word. She had heard the word before from Octavia, but still was unsure as to what it actually meant, although she assumed it wasn’t meant to be particularly genial. 

She crossed both arms over her chest and smirked at the infuriated blonde. “Did you really think, I didn’t know you were here, Clarke? That you have been here for two weeks now? Why do you think on the third day I started walking this path?” 

The blonde stood there gaping at Lexa, unable to respond intelligently. She knew. Of course the damn woman had known she had been there all along. She had been playing her. For two weeks she had played her, and Clarke hadn’t even seen it. 

She felt the heat flood her face and she clenched and unclenched her fists, wanting to launch herself at the smug face before her. The smug face with the high cheekbones and delicate jawline. She growled under her breath. 

“Fuck you, Lexa. You might have known this time, but I have time. As you always say, Lexa, jus drein jus draun. I want blood, Lexa. You owe me,” she hissed trying to fight back the angry tears as she gazed at the smirking brunette. 

Lexa immediately felt the smug mirth drain from her. She had been pleased to see the blonde, even if said blonde had been trying to kill her in her fury. Luna had given her weekly reports, and she had been proud of Clarke as she had whole-heartedly thrown herself into learning how to survive on earth. She had become a grounder in her time at Luna’s, but it was obvious the time hadn’t eased the blonde’s pain. 

And she didn’t blame her. Lexa had left her to die at the mountain, and ensuring that Clarke’s people had survived the winter, obviously hadn’t lessened the blonde’s rage at her. Lexa sighed inwardly. They had a long way to go. 

“The alliance holds, Clarke. The Trikru ensured that your people survived the winter, and we are helping them plant and grow food.”

“Alliance? What alliance, Lexa!? It doesn’t hold, you broke the alliance when you left us to die on that mountain,” she all but screamed at Lexa as she fought to maintain what little control she had left. She couldn’t afford to fight Lexa face to face. She would never get close enough to hit her before Lexa was on her. 

“You left me, Lexa. You left me. ME. ME, Lexa!” she snarled the anger slowly building in her chest, pushing against her ribs threatening to choke her from the inside. She fought to maintain control as she swallowed and pushed the fury back inside, caging it again. 

“You left me to die,” she whispered as she took a deep breath trying to calm her pounding heart. She looked away, unable to meet the brunette’s soft gaze through the salt stinging her eyes. 

Lexa swallowed hard, her heart hurting hearing it echo in the pound of her heart: ME. ME. ME. 

She knew now why Clarke really hated her. She hated her, not for abandoning Clarke’s people, Clarke was pragmatic enough to eventually understand why she had done it, why it had been best for the Trikru. No, her fury was because she had abandoned Clarke, had tossed her aside like a smashed blade that has served its purpose and is now worthless.

After everything, after Finn and Ton DC, after the kiss, after pushing the button together; after everything, she had left Clarke standing alone before the impenetrable door in the mountain. She had abandoned Clarke, and when she left her there, she had taken Clarke’s hope with her. Hope that had been Clarke’s strength, her fire.

“Yes. I did. I belong to my people, Clarke. I always have, and I always will, even after I take my last breath, my spirit will still belong to my people; and will find another. If I could have chosen….”

“Stop. Just stop, Commander, I don’t want to hear it.” The blonde looked back at the brunette, her eyes cold and dark. She backed up a few steps and circled wide around the commander keeping her eyes on her the entire time as she made her way over to the broken spear. She glanced down quickly, disgruntled when she noticed it was now virtually useless. 

So, they were back to Commander. Hearing her name tumble from the blonde’s lips had ignited a soft heat that had settled low in Lexa’s belly. She had briefly embraced the warmth, but now she felt it cool and burrow down into her limbs when she heard Clarke spit out her title. She bit back her sigh and her face gave away nothing as to the loss she felt. 

Instead, Lexa watched calmly as the blonde circled wide around her, her gaze never leaving hers. She too pivoted slowly in a circle to keep an eye on the angry blonde. She really didn’t want to have to worry about the end of a spear in her back. Not that the blonde would be able to sneak up on her. She smiled slightly. While Clarke had learned much from Luna, she still didn’t move with the grace, silence, and speed of the Trikru. She didn’t lumber anymore like many of the Skaikru, but she had a long way to go before she could slip about unnoticed. 

She eyed the blonde carefully as she scooped up the shattered spear and then glowered at Lexa. 

“I’m not done.” Defiance graced every line of her body as she stared moodily at Lexa, her rage simmering just under the surface. Lexa was sadly mistaken, if she thought Clarke wouldn’t have her revenge.

Lexa sighed. Somehow she had known that the blonde wouldn’t quit. She shook her head slightly, wondering if she should just be amused or actually worried. Either way, she would have to be on her guard. She didn’t want to accidentally hurt Clarke during her next “attack.”

“Well, until you have decided when and how to kill me next, perhaps you would like to return to Ton DC with me? I’m sure you are hungry?” She kept her face impassive as she watched the blonde snort and start to shake her head, only for the silence to be split by a loud grumbling. The blonde glanced down, completely mortified at the offending noise. Lexa tried not to laugh as she watched the blonde’s fair skin heat suddenly. Red looked good on her. 

“It appears that the monster in your belly wishes to be fed,” she smirked at the blonde, but then quickly threw up a hand when she could see the angry retort forming on soft, pink lips. 

“Octavia and Raven are in the village. They have missed you.” She waited calmly, ignoring the rapid beat of her heart, as she waited for the blonde to make her decision. She tried not to smile in relief when the blonde finally gave her a curt nod. 

Clarke took a few steps forward and then hesitated glancing at Lexa. She smirked and gestured with her hand, “after you, Co-man-duh.” She couldn’t help but feel a little glee at the way the brunette’s brow furrowed when she heard Clarke spit out the syllables. 

Lexa tried not to snort at the presumption of the blonde. As if she was that stupid. She wasn’t about to turn her back on the angry blonde. She gestured in front of her, “No, Clarke, after you. I insist.” She let the Heda leak into her voice, satisfied when Clarke stiffened and darted her eyes around nervously. 

“Fine. But should I be worried that you will stab me in the back, Commander? After all you are good at betrayal. You wear it so well,” hissed the blonde. 

Lexa felt her words like a blow in her stomach, and barely managed not to flinch. She seethed inwardly, not so much angry at the words, but angry that the words hurt. She glared at the blonde. 

“Do not test me, Clarke. Let’s go. Breakfast should be ready.” She glanced pointedly at the blonde’s stomach that let out another muted roar. 

Clarke tried not to blush at rumbling in her stomach, but gathered her nerve and made it a point of stomping past the brunette back into the tree line to retrieve her satchel that she had hidden there. 

“Ryder already has it and has taken it to the tent we’ve set up for you.” 

Clarke stumbled, snarling under her breath. Naturally the damn Commander had known where her satchel was. She stewed in silence for a moment debating whether or not she should just run into the trees, but the empty clawing at her stomach won out. Fine. She would return with Lexa and bide her time. But the unmerited gall of her to set up a tent! She barely managed not to stomp her foot, but turned and stomped her way down the trail back towards Ton DC. 

Lexa sighed as she slowly followed the angry blonde back down the trail. It was going to be a long few weeks with Clarke in camp as they finished rebuilding Ton DC. Clarke in camp. She perked up at the thought. Clarke would be in camp. In a tent. Near her. She could keep an eye on Clarke, and maybe, maybe they could find peace. She smiled at the thought.


	2. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I suck at chapter summaries. If anyone has a good summary, please let me know, and I will edit.

Chapter 2: Reunions

They made their way into camp, and Lexa ordered her guards to stand down. They eyed the blonde warily, all too aware that she had been stalking the Heda. Indra glared at the blonde, and Clarke balked slightly at the intensity of her gaze. She knew she needed to be careful around Indra. Indra was apt to strike first if she thought Clarke would try to harm Lexa again. She would need to come up with a plan. 

Lexa pointed her in the direction of the breakfast fires knowing Raven and Octavia would already be there, then she gestured for Indra to follow her into her tent.  
Clarke glanced around noting the angry, distrustful glances of the warriors. She tried to ignore them, as she walked over to the breakfast fires hoping to appease the pain in her belly. She smiled in genuine relief when she saw Raven and Octavia hurrying towards her. 

“Clarke! Clarke!” Raven and Octavia stumbled towards the blonde, and Clarke met them halfway throwing both her arms wide around their shoulders as the three laughed and hugged each other. Eventually they stepped back slightly, their arms still clasped around each other. Clarke glanced up quickly noting Lincoln standing close by. He nodded to her, a small smile upon his face. Clarke couldn’t help but feel relief that it appeared that Octavia and Lincoln had found their place among the Trikru. 

“Damn, Clarke! Where have you been? Well, we know where you’ve been. You’ve been with Luna. But, damn! Clarke, I- I…” Octavia’s words tumbled quickly out of her mouth the relief at finally seeing Clarke overwhelming her, and she choked as tears slipped down her cheeks. She threw her arms around Clarke again burying her face in her neck.

“What she said. What she said, Clarke,” laughed Raven in agreement, relieved at finally seeing Clarke again.

Clarke was surprised at first at the depth of the Octavia’s words, the tears that slipped from her cheeks and onto the blonde’s neck. She wrapped both arms around her, feeling the guilt slick through her blood. Octavia had been her loyal friend, and she had left her to die in Ton DC, and then left her again after they brought the mountain to their knees.

Octavia had been so angry, so bitter with pain towards Clarke, when she realized the lengths Clarke would go to free their people. But it appeared that time had softened Octavia’s anger, and instead of the bitter warrior, she thought she would meet; she once again met the girl with wonder in her eyes, the girl who danced with neon blue butterflies.

“I-I’m sorry, O,” she murmured as the tears clogged her throat and pressed kisses to the girl’s temple. “I’m sorry.” 

Raven watched, her eyes wide as Octavia tried to muffle her tears in Clarke’s neck. She slipped her arm up her back and rubbed soothing circles stepping closer to them both, wrapping her arms around them. 

“It’s ok, Octavia. It’s ok. It’s finally ok.” Raven kissed the warrior’s shoulder and then glanced at the salty blue eyes, the sorrow etched so deeply in pale features. Her smile wobbled as she cupped the back of the blonde’s head and stared at her. 

“It’s ok, Clarke. It’s finally ok.” 

Clarke nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She understood what the young mechanic meant. They were ok, even if Clarke wasn’t ok. 

Octavia pulled back and gestured for Lincoln, nodding at the breakfast fire. She smiled when he nodded and quickly made his way over, scooping food into four bowls and then walked over to a log, nudging the warriors who sat there. They got up quickly and left. Lincoln sat down with the bowls, patiently waiting for them. 

Raven pulled back also, fighting her own tears. Now was simply not the time. She had missed Clarke, but she hadn’t really realized how much. Until now. She had been angry when Clarke first left, angry that she had essentially abandoned her when she was at her weakest. But the long months of trying to survive in the harsh winter and recover from her wounds had let her anger slowly dissipate. She had finally grasped why Clarke had left, unable to bear her sins, unable to look any of them in the eye. Unable to live with Raven’s screams and the sounds of the drilling and scraping bone. Raven had stopped being angry, and instead just wished the blonde would return. 

She had thrown herself into helping set up radio communications between the Skaikru and Trikru once the new alliance was established. Eventually she found herself spending more and more time in the Trikru camp as the months passed. She was comfortable here, and Octavia was here. The two had grown even closer as they had worked to find a place for themselves. A place that had ended up being with the Trikru. 

Clarke slowly released Raven as she stepped back. She reached up and wiped away the brunette’s tears and smiled at her. She followed her and Octavia over to the log as they grabbed her hands and pulled her with them laughing and gesturing wildly. 

She nodded at Lincoln and patted him on the shoulder and then gasped when he grabbed her in his arms and hugged her. She stumbled when he abruptly released her looking shyly at Octavia who just snorted in amusement and kissed his cheek. 

And so the four of them sat and ate, and slowly Clarke relaxed and smiled. And unbeknownst to any of them, a certain brunette watched quietly from the doorway of her tent. 

*************************************** 

“Heda.”

Lexa turned at the sound of her most trusted general’s voice. She tried to wipe the smile off her face as she walked into her tent and threw herself inelegantly into her antlered throne. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes briefly. Clarke was safe. Clarke was here. But now what to do? 

“Heda?” 

“Yes, Indra?” she asked as she straightened in her throne and narrowed her gaze at her general who stood before her. 

“Heda, what do you intend to do with her? She tried to kill you,” Indra implored, anger coloring her voice. She hadn’t been in favor of Heda’s plan to bring Clarke out in the open by walking out along the trail each day. Alone. No, she had vehemently protested until Heda had told her to shof op, which she did will ill-concealed frustration. 

Lexa laughed low in the back of her throat. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant sound, and she stood and stalked towards her general with all the grace and restrained fury of a panther. 

“Really, Indra?” she cooed at her general, “Do you really think so little of your Heda that this blonde upstart would get the best of me?” She snarled now at Indra letting the fury leak into her voice. She bared her teeth when she noticed Indra swallow hard. She was pleased though when her general’s voice didn’t shake and she looked her dead in the eye. 

“No, Heda. But even a wounded dog has a sharp bite.” Indra met her Heda’s gaze squarely, long enough to make her point, and then dipped her chin in deference. 

Lexa walked over to her side table and poured herself and Indra a drink, returning to her throne after handing Indra a mug. She gestured for her to come closer. 

“What do you suggest, Indra? I can’t kill her. It would mean war with the Skaikru.” She glanced away, not quite meeting Indra’s knowing glance as she took a sip of the wine and mumbled into her cup, “I don’t want to kill her.” 

“What was that, Heda?” Indra smirked at the glare Heda threw her way. 

“She is right in her anger, Indra,” the brunette sighed as she absently-mindedly ran her finger along the rim of her mug, “I left her. I abandoned her.”

Indra sighed and put her mug down knowing that they were finally getting to the crux of the issue. How did she always get roped into being the one who had to discuss feelings with the Heda? She shuddered slightly. This was supposed to have been Gustus’ job. She bit back the pang of sorrow she felt at the thought of Gustus’ betrayal and ultimate death. 

“Her, Heda?” She reluctantly coaxed. 

“Yes, her,” mumbled Lexa not meeting her general’s eyes. She felt the ache in her chest bloom, the ache that had taken root when she had accepted the deal. It had only grown over the long months. The ache had eased somewhat when she first received word from Luna that Clarke had made her way to them, and they were caring for her, but it always lingered. It festered.

She had given aid to the Skaikru when she realized they had survived the mountain and were totally unprepared for oncoming winter. She had ordered her people to teach them to hunt and cure the meat, how to make clothing, and how to fortify their homes. The winter had been long and bitter, and some Skaikru had succumbed to the new earth, but not nearly as many if she and her people hadn’t come to their aid.

She hadn’t done it for the Skaikru though. And while she felt a certain tolerance for Raven and Octavia, and perhaps a few other Skaikru, she didn’t feel particularly amenable to them in general. No, she had done it for Clarke, for Clarke the girl with the bright eyes and the golden hair; the girl who slipped a knife into the heart of the boy she loved to spare him an agonizing death; the girl who brought her Anya’s braid; the girl who challenged her and pushed her at every turn, who declared herself Lexa’s equal and refused to settle for anything less than her rightful place this ravaged earth. The girl who let a village burn and then kicked down a mountain. The girl who kissed her as if she could love her. 

No, helping the Skaikru was never about them. It was Clarke. Always Clarke. Always, always, ALWAYS Clarke! It was both her penance and atonement. 

It had taken months of careful planning, arguing, and negotiation before they had hammered out a new alliance with the Skaikru. Abby had finally seen reason, and Lexa knew it was in no small part to the fact that she kept Abby regularly updated on Clarke’s progress. It was what had probably swayed Abby in the end. Kane had been more willing to see reason from the beginning, knowing that they couldn’t afford to make an enemy of the Trikru, realizing that they would not survive winter without them. 

Trust was still an ongoing battle between the Skaikru and Trikru, but slowly more and more Skaikru and Trikru were building homes in the miles between the Ark and the new Ton DC. They were building a new civilization, a new society; and instead of a common enemy, they now had a common goal: to live. Not to just survive, but to live. Clarke had been right that day in her tent, when she had told Lexa that life should be about more than just surviving. Sometimes Lexa wasn’t sure if she deserved more than just surviving, but Clarke did. And she was adamant that Clarke would finally get her chance to live, to grow and flourish. 

“She is not to be harmed, Indra.” She stared at her general, letting her feel the weight of her words, of her gaze. She wanted no misunderstandings. 

“She will try again, Heda,” Indra protested mildly not wanting to rile the Heda, “her anger is strong and she is troubled and broken. She is dangerous.” 

“Then we will help her rebuild herself. She is not to be harmed, Indra, am I clear?” 

“Yes, Heda,” Indra bowed her head and then gazed thoughtfully at her Heda, “perhaps it would be wise to give her a guard, to make sure that no harm comes to her and to make sure she can do no harm?”

Lexa gazed at her general, tapping her chin thoughtfully. She knew it would be the wise thing to do, to have a guard in the shadows following Clarke, but she would also need to distract Clarke, to somehow show Clarke all that she could now have, and still manage to keep the blonde from killing her. 

“Mordecai,” she nodded as she pondered her choice. Mordecai was a young, promising warrior best known for her stealth abilities. She could easily stay in the shadows or blend into the background. Clarke would never know she was being followed.

Indra nodded slowly. Mordecai would be perfect. She was fast, and would be able to stop the blonde when she attempted to harm the Heda again. 

“Yes, Heda, I will speak with Mordecai.” 

“We need to keep her busy, Indra, distracted. I want Clarke to realize that there is more to life than vengeance. This is her chance to live in peace.”

“What do you suggest, Heda?” She eyed Heda warily, noting Heda’s smile. She sighed. She just knew she wasn’t going to like this. 

“We will teach her to be a warrior, a leader. We will prepare her for a long life on the ground.” Lexa nodded satisfied. 

Indra sputtered indignantly. Had the Heda finally lost what senses she had? Teach the blonde to be a warrior just so she could kill Heda?!

“Heda! Teaching her to be a warrior will only teach her skills she can use to harm you!” She stopped the tirade she was about to launch into when she saw Heda throw up her hand, effectively silencing her. She gripped the pommel of her sword hard. 

“We will also teach her our traditions and language. Maybe I will take her to Polis, so she can see all that earth has to offer her. All that we have to offer her.” The “all that I have to offer her” was unspoken, but Indra still heard it. 

She bit back the growl in her throat, knowing that she wasn’t going to convince Heda otherwise. She would just have to ensure that Heda’s guards were even more alert than usual. 

“Yes, Heda.” She bowed her head, “I will make arrangements with Mordecai, and alert your guard.” She turned to make her way out of the tent, stopping in the entrance when she heard Heda’s reply. 

“No, you won’t alert the guards. They are alert enough. Let her try, Indra. Perhaps the sooner she gets it out of her system, the sooner she can have peace.” 

She smiled gently at the stiffening of her general’s back, “she won’t hurt me, Indra. I won’t allow it to go that far.” She smiled again at the sharp nod from her general as Indra walked through the entrance calling for Mordecai. 

Yes, she would allow Clarke to try her vengeance, and while she was planning on how to kill her, she would teach and show Clarke everything her people had to offer. She smiled. She was actually looking forward to the blonde’s next attempt. It was good to be kept alert for danger, and from what Luna had told her, the blonde while having improved, wasn’t especially adept yet at being a warrior. Octavia could take her easily, and Octavia had never bested her on the training ground or on the hunt.

Lexa stood and walked over to her large table that had once held the models of the mountain and their intended battle. She traced her fingers lightly over the new models, gently caressing the small wooden doll with hair painted gold. No, she had faith that Clarke would find her way, that in the end Clarke would give up her revenge. That Clarke would come back to her.


	3. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke has nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a shitty summary. Sorry. 
> 
> Oh and remember the vomit tag? Yeah. Sorry.

CHAPTER 3: Nightmares

Clarke made her way to her tent, tired from the long day. She had spent the remainder of the day catching up with Octavia and Raven. 

They had filled her in on the long winter and the new alliance. How Lexa herself had come from Polis with food and furs and salt. She had left some of her best hunters, builders and craftsmen from Polis at the ark to help them hunt and prepare for winter. They had taught them to hunt and properly tan the skins and furs, how to sew them into clothing. They had given them some of their precious salt and taught them to cure the meat they hunted. They had helped them build better and stronger shelters as the winds came whipping down the mountains and shook the trees. Soon the Breath of Winter had slithered into camp and taken root. It had come early and unexpectedly. It had burned them from deep within their bones, and their muscles and sinews ached with the cold. 

The sickness had come and Lexa had returned with healers and woodcutters. The healers fought alongside Abby as the sickness ravaged the Skaikru. Lexa and the woodcutters and all able-bodied Skaikru retreated to the forests with axes and saws, felling trees and dragging them to the ark. They had spent days cutting wood and stacking it inside the ark. They had built fires in the ark to dry out the wood, to make it usable.

They fought the Breath of Winter together for months, and when the air finally gave up its icy grasp and the snows began to melt, Lexa came again with tillers and farmers to help prepare the land for crops and eventual harvest. 

Clarke absorbed all that they said, unsure how to respond, or how to feel. She had known that the coalition had helped her people survive the winter. Luna had assured her of this, but Luna had failed to mention that Lexa herself had arrived from Polis and had stayed to help her people. So she simply listened as they spoke quietly of all that had passed while she had been gone those hard, cold months.

They told her of the time when Abby had struck Lexa across the face crying, not over the betrayal of the Skaikru, but over the loss of her daughter, the child she had birthed and raised and loved; the child who drew on her walls all the wonders of an earth she could not see; the child who had destroyed an entire people and then fled. 

They told her how Lexa had just stood there and taken her rage, how she had thrown up her hand to stop her warriors who were intent on shredding Abby’s flesh. They told her how Abby had collapsed against Lexa sobbing Clarke’s name over and over, and how Lexa had ordered her warriors out, and then to the shock of Skaikru in the lab, she had wrapped both arms around Abby and had simply let her cry. 

They told her that Bellamy was now part of the council and a trusted ally of the Trikru. They told her how Miller was one of ten Skaikru and Trikru apprentices under the tutelage of Abby and Nyko both. They had told her that Monty had taken to farming, and he was still running his still. Harper had set up a small school for both Trikru and Skaikru children, and she and Monty had found happiness.

Raven and Wick fought just as much as they loved, and Octavia was of the mind that they deliberately fought just so they could have very loud makeup sex. Raven didn’t even bother to protest, just had smirked and shrugged. 

But they didn’t mention Jasper, and she couldn’t bring herself to ask. 

********************************

She sighed as she glanced around her small tent, noting the bed of thick furs, her satchel placed carefully on top. There was a small table and four chairs a few feet across the tent from the bed. Next to the bed was a small stand with a basin and pitcher. She noted a small chest at the foot of the bed, and when she knelt down and opened it, she saw a few towels and what appeared to be an assortment of clothing. 

She reached and pulled out a finely made leather jacket. She rubbed her fingers across the smooth leather that had been dyed a deep blue. It was similar to the old blue jacket she had worn at the mountain, but that jacket was long gone, replaced by a Frankenstein hooded jacket that Luna had given her.

She hesitated, fingering the smooth leather. She was tempted to put it on, it looked like it would fit perfectly, but she supposed putting it on would be weak, would be as if she were grateful. She laid it on the bed, still unsure how to feel about a jacket that had obviously been made for her. She wasn’t stupid, she knew who had had it made for her, but she didn’t know why. 

She sighed and dug around in the chest a bit more, removing the towels and a couple pairs of soft shorts and t-shirts. She pulled out a two pairs of dark pants with numerous pockets. The material was thick but not scratchy. They would come in handy. She knew just by eyeing them that they would fit perfectly. 

Her searching hand froze when it skimmed the bundle buried at the bottom of the chest. She felt her heart skip as she fingered the looped twine. She knew it was a box by its shape, and while she had no way of knowing for sure, she suspected she knew what it was, but she didn’t quite dare grasp it and pull it out of the trunk. Damn her. Damn her. Damn her! 

She let her head sink into her chest, and she leaned forward resting her forehead on her wrist. She felt the tears burn her eyes, and her breath clog her throat. She couldn’t afford to cry, or to be weak. She had a job to do. She had promised herself that Lexa would pay. Lexa had to pay. She didn’t know how else to live with what she had done, how to live with herself. 

She straightened up and let her fingers fall away, briefly lingering on the bundle before jerking her hand out of the chest. No. She couldn’t and she wouldn’t. She gathered the clothing and towels and jacket and shoved them back into the chest, letting the lid slam shut. She wasn’t going to accept this. 

She rose to her feet and grabbed her satchel, pulling out a pair of worn shorts and soft shirt. She changed quickly and slipped beneath the furs grateful for the warmth as the nights were still cool in mid spring. 

She stared up at the top of the tent idly planning what to do next. She should probably see her mother, but she wasn’t ready yet. But she knew she needed to one last time before she finally killed Lexa. She needed to see Bellamy too and Monty and Harper and Miller. She needed to make sure that they were all right, that they would continue to survive and thrive. She needed to see Jasper. 

****************************************

She woke with a jolt in the dead of night, her heart pounding in her ears, the sweat slicking across her skin. She choked and sobbed and then leaned over the side of her bed throwing up the contents of her dinner from hours ago. As she emptied her stomach onto the floor of the tent, the last of the screams, only she could hear, slowly died away.

She breathed deeply through her nose trying to regain control, and recoiled at the pungent odor of the vomit. She rubbed the heels of her palms into her eyes willing herself not to cry. She was so tired of crying, of the screams, of the vomiting. Her stomach ached with the force of nightmares, and she groaned as she got out of bed.

Her clothing stuck uncomfortably to her skin, and the smell of the vomit made her stomach roil. She sidestepped the mess and poured water into the small basin, swishing a soft cloth through it. She pulled off her shirt and wiped the sweat from her neck and chest and arms. She trailed the cool cloth across her belly fingering the scar that ran diagonally across her lower abdomen on the left side. She sighed, and quickly finished wiping herself clean. 

She glanced distastefully at the vomit wondering how to dispose of it. She didn’t want to ruin one of the few cloths she had. She walked to the door of her tent, pulling the flaps back and peering outside. She noted the fires burned low. She didn’t see anyone around, but she knew there were guards posted on patrol in the tree line. She stepped out hastily and walked over to the nearest log at the nearest fire and peeled off a couple stretches of bark. She returned to her tent and scooped the vomit as best as she cold in to the bark and then went back to the fire, flinging it in. She returned to her tent and dumped some water on the stain, scrubbing at it with a cloth. It would have to do for now. 

She glared sourly at the cloth as if it had offended, when in reality she was mad at herself. No, at Lexa. These nightmares were Lexa’s fault. She swallowed hard. Except it had been she, she who had pulled that lever and killed them all. She shook her head angrily, but if Lexa hadn’t left her, she would have had to do it! She nodded sharply, glad that her mind was in order again. 

She climbed back into bed, despite knowing that there would be no sleep for her. She could never sleep after the nightmares had visited her. Instead she lay there in the dark, her hands tightly fisted in the furs, her throat burning with the effort to not cry as she quietly recited the poems her father used to write for her back on the Ark, back before he had been killed, back before it had all gone to hell. A heavy stone settled on her chest, and she felt the first tear slip down her cheek. It was cold and it burned like winter.


	4. New Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a bit short, so I'm going to post two instead of one.

CHAPTER 4: New Day

She slipped out of bed in the early hours of the morning. Dawn was just blushing across the horizon, and she couldn’t bear to be in the tent anymore. She pulled her clothing on hastily, snapping her pauldron to her right shoulder and strapping the dagger to her thigh, and slipping the thin blade up the sleeve of her right arm. She had become adept at wielding the blade with her right hand, even though she was left handed. She had carefully kept this knowledge hidden from Luna, so she felt confident that Lexa didn’t know the blade was in her right sleeve. Luna would have assumed it was in her left sleeve, because she only ever saw it there. 

She slipped the second blade up her left sleeve. She figured if Indra found it, she would look no further. She wasn’t planning on exacting her revenge today, as she knew she needed to see her mother first. Still it was better to be prepared. 

She stepped out of the tent and halted abruptly as Indra stepped in front of her. The general simply stared at her, and Clarke just barely managed to refrain from squirming. She didn’t want to admit that Indra could intimidate her, especially now in her unwavering silence. 

And then Indra leaned forward slightly, confident that she had rattled the Skai Prisa, “I know what you are planning, Clarke, and I will not have it. We are prepared for your next attack.” She snorted at the thought of the “attack,” as it hadn’t been well thought out, not accounting for just how great of a warrior the Heda was. 

She bared her teeth at the blonde ready to say more when a heavy voice bit through the air, “Stand down, Indra!” Indra snarled lowly at the blonde so only she could hear it, but then immediately straightened and stepped back. 

“Go, Indra. You and Octavia have training this morning.” Indra glared at the blonde one more time and then turned and nodded at Heda who eyed her warningly. She stalked off calling for Octavia to meet her at the training ground. 

Lexa stared impassively at Clarke, noting that she was wearing the same outfit from before. The blonde was obviously not receptive to her gifts. She bit back a sigh. She knew it would be a long journey, but she had hoped at least that the blonde would avail herself of the clothing. Especially the jacket. Lexa had had it dyed to match the blue of her eyes.

It was actually the fourth jacket that she’d had her craftsmen in Polis make, as none of the others had been the right shade. She had designed the jacket herself, carefully instructing the craftsmen on each detail, but it had been the color that had been the hardest to match. But they had finally succeeded.

The jacket had been finished months ago, and she had kept it waiting for Clarke to eventually show herself. When Luna sent word that Clarke had left their clan, she had waited impatiently for her arrival. And once her warriors had reported that they had seen her in the area, she had had the tent readied. She had carefully packed the trunk with the clothing she had had made for Clarke, and she had placed the small package at the bottom of the trunk, hidden under the clothes, ready for when Clarke was ready. The jacket she had put on top. 

Clarke glared at Lexa, exhausted and angry from her restless night. She had only slept a few hours as was typical, and she was itching to take it out on someone. Preferably Lexa, but she knew she wouldn’t get within striking distance. 

“You’re in my way. Move.” 

Lexa arched an eyebrow at the impertinence of the blonde, and she flicked her fingers at the guard shooing him away when he had stepped forward, taking umbrage at the insolence in the blonde’s tone. 

************************************

He glared daggers at the blonde and stalked off bumping into Ryder as he made his way towards the breakfast fires. 

“Felix!”

Felix ground to a halt and turned quickly at the sharp note of discord in Ryder’s voice. He was one of Lexa’s most trusted warriors and a brother in arms.  
“Forgive me, brother,” murmured Felix as he dropped his chin in deference. 

“What ails you today?” Ryder crossed his arms over his burly chest surprised by Felix’s bump into him. Felix was usually very aware of his environment, and wasn’t usually so rude.

Felix ground his teeth and jerked his chin back the way he had come, “Her! That blonde menace,” he gripped the dagger at his waist in anger, “she disrespects the Heda, and Heda allows her insolence to go unpunished,” he hissed at Ryder.

Ryder stepped forward quickly, grabbing the front of Felix’s jerkin in his fist. “You would be wise to keep your mouth shut, Felix,” he growled at the young warrior. He liked him, but he needed to be taught a lesson in humility. 

“You do NOT question the Heda. You serve the Heda, you fight and die for Heda, you do not question how she treats Clarke kom Skaikru.” He shoved Felix back a step and glowered at the young warrior as he hastily straightened his jerkin. 

Felix clenched his jaw and then looked up at Ryder meeting his eyes, he dipped his chin lower this time in deference. “Yes, Ryder.”

Ryder clapped him on the shoulder, “good, Felix, you will make a fine warrior,” he leaned in closer and whispered into his ear, “worry not, Heda has a plan.” Then he gave him a light shove towards the breakfast fires, “Now go. Eat. Then get to the training ground.”

Felix nodded, relieved at Ryder’s words and quickly went to get breakfast, soon forgetting the blonde’s insolence. 

Ryder watched him go, hiding his worry. He knew that Heda felt she needed to be lenient towards the Skai Prisa, felt that she was justified in her wish for revenge. But soon the warriors would start talking if Heda didn’t put the Skai Prisa in her place. They would talk about the Skai Prisa’s insolence, but it would soon change to talk of Heda and her weakness for the Skai Prisa. He needed to speak to Indra, and he hurried off to find her. 

***************************************

“You are going the wrong way, Clarke.” 

“What do you mean I’m going the wrong way? I only just walked outside of my tent, how do you even know which way I was going?” The blonde stared at the brunette in disbelief. It was too early in the morning to deal with her. She was hungry and tired, and simply wanted to eat. 

“Any way other than to the training ground is the wrong way, Clarke.” Lexa stared at her, her face betraying nothing as she calmly crossed her wrists in front of her.  
“Training ground? Why would I be going there?” Clarke felt her anger slowly building as she glared at Lexa’s impassive face. She hated how the brunette could look so unconcerned, so cold, so calm, when she herself was always in constant turmoil. 

“Because you are going to train. To become a warrior. Luna taught you much about surviving the seasons and elements, how to fish and make clothing, repair boats, but she did not teach you much about being a warrior. War is not one of the Boat Clans strengths.”

Clarke stewed in silence for a moment at the realization that she truly had never been hidden from Lexa, that Lexa had always known where she was and what she was doing.

“Fine,” she bit out glaring at Lexa, “I look forward to learning more ways to kill you.”

Lexa smirked at her, “well you can try, Clarke. You can try.” She gestured for Clarke to precede her and pointed to the training ground. 

“Wait,” protested the blonde, “what about breakfast?”

“Warriors train when their Heda tells them to train, and they eat when their Heda tells them to eat.” She arched an eyebrow at Clarke, silently challenging her. Truth was, her warriors normally ate lightly before training so they would have strength but would not be cramped by too much food. Clarke didn’t need to know this though.

“You aren’t my Heda. You aren't my anything.” Clarke stared at her evenly, her chin jutting out slightly. 

Lexa fixed Clarke with a steady gaze. “Here, I am your Heda,” she replied evenly, daring the blonde to defy her. 

Clarke narrowed her gaze at Lexa wondering what game she was playing at. She suspected that withholding food was her way of punishing Clarke for her earlier insolence. Well two could play this game. She would do what Lexa said, and when she had lulled her into thinking that Clarke was harmless, she would strike. 

She smiled cheerfully at Lexa, “Whatever you say, Hey-da.” She turned and made her way to the training ground. 

Lexa was surprised that Clarke hadn’t put up more of a fight, but she hadn’t missed the sarcasm when she called her ‘Heda.’ She narrowed her eyes and followed Clarke to the training ground.


	5. Training

CHAPTER 5: Training

Three hours later, Clarke was exhausted and stumbling on her feet trying to avoid another swing of the blunted blade of her opponent. Peter? Petra? Peter Cottontail? She couldn’t remember his name, and she doubted it mattered as he was kicking her ass. She should probably just call him Ass-Kicker.

She lifted her straining arm one more time attempting to block his blow, but she stumbled and fell on her butt in the dirt and the training sword was spent spinning in the other direction. She felt the blunt end gently prod under her chin, and she looked up at the smirking warrior too tired to curse at him as she had done earlier. He was the fourth or was it the fifth warrior she had fought? It didn’t matter. After a while their smirking faces all blurred into varying swirls of tattoos and braided hair. 

She tiredly batted away the end of his sword, only for him to push it more firmly under her chin, scratching the skin of her neck. 

“Em pleni!” Lexa strode over to the blonde still sitting in the dirt. Her face was red and sweaty from exertion and dirt was caked into her clothing. She eyed the thin red line under her chin and tried to keep from sighing. 

“Enough, Jameson. We are done here.” She gestured for the gathered warriors to leave noting that Octavia hesitated, shooting a concerned look at the blonde then glancing at Lexa. She gave her a slight nod and saw the relief swish across Octavia’s face before she turned and quickly followed Indra. 

Jameson? Huh. Who knew? Where the hell did she get Peter from? Didn’t matter, she preferred Peter Cottontail. Clarke sighed quietly, her hair hanging in her face as she rubbed her dirty fingers together, noting the blisters that had formed on the palms. She ached all over, and tired tears stung at her eyes. She glanced up when she noticed the hand in front of her waiting for her to grasp it. 

She wanted to slap the hand away, but she didn’t think she had the energy. Her wet blue eyes tangled with cool green and she watched in slight awe as they softened and warmed. She was too tired and too hurt to even be angry right now. She reluctantly reached up and grabbed the hand, hissing as her torn flesh met the strong, warm palm. She felt long fingers firmly curve around her hand and then she was rising quickly to her feet. 

She stumbled and bumped into Lexa, surprised at how quickly the brunette had pulled her to her feet. Clarke was no lightweight and she was shocked at the strength of the other woman. She hadn’t been prepared for her strength, nor had she been prepared for the soft gasp near her ear when she had bumped into Lexa. 

Lexa’s arms automatically went around the blonde’s waist steadying her as she felt the warm, strong body fall into her own. She had gasped softly, hoping Clarke didn’t hear it when she had felt the soft curves push into her own. The blonde had discarded her jacket earlier in the day, and she only wore a thin long-sleeve top, and Lexa could feel the twitching muscles under her hands. 

For a brief moment she felt the blonde sag into her, her hands cupping Lexa’s elbows for one brief moment that Lexa wished would stretch for eternity. And then she felt the body shove against her trying to throw her off. 

“Get off of me! What are you doing?!” snarled the blonde, angry at herself for her moment of weakness. She had heard the soft gasp and felt the warmth of the other woman. For a brief moment she had felt relief when Lexa’s arms tightened around her waist, steadying her, holding her. She could relax here, maybe even be weak here. It didn’t sound like such a bad thing right now.

“I’m not on you, Clarke,” she replied calmly, ignoring the pounding of her heart. She hesitated and then smirked, “If I was on you, Clarke, you would know it, and there would be absolutely no doubt of my intentions.”

Clarke’s mouth dropped open. Did she just…? She did! She stood there, her mouth opening and closing as Lexa just smirked at her. She watched as the brunette walked over and picked up her training sword and then grabbed her scabbard. 

Lexa slipped the training sword into the battered leather scabbard and grabbed the blonde’s jacket and battered pauldron. She held out the hooded jacket jiggling it and waiting for the blonde to turn so she could slide her arms into her jacket. She waited patiently for the blonde to decide. 

Clarke stared at Lexa, slightly bewildered that she was holding out the jacket, waiting for her turn her back and slip her arms into the jacket. She glanced around to the left and right noting the few guards who stood there watching impassively. She grabbed the jacket, fisting her hand in it and pulled slightly, but Lexa refused to let it go.

Lexa tried not to smile as she gripped the jacket tighter and simply waited for Clarke to give in. Clarke pulled harder, and Lexa simply tightened her grip. She couldn’t help but smile a little as the blonde huffed irritably at her and turned and slipped her arms into the jacket, wiggling her shoulders to let it settle. 

“Hold still.”

Clarke simply huffed at her again trying not to stiffen at the feel of nimble fingers fixing her pauldron on her shoulder and fastening the straps. She shuffled her feet nervously though when she felt the ghost of warm breath brush across her neck and face as Lexa circled tightly around her, the brunette’s breasts blushing along the blonde’s arm as she straightened the strap down the blonde’s front, gripping it lightly.

Lexa smiled at the sharp intake of breath when her fingertips brushed across the bare sweaty skin of Clarke’s cleavage. She didn’t let her fingers linger, though she desperately wanted to slide her fingers down into the tantalizing valley of her breasts. Instead she turned back around and quickly tied the scabbard to the pauldron’s strap, letting it rest comfortably across the blonde’s back. 

She stepped back and gestured for Clarke to precede her, “Come. There should still be some food that we can find near the fires.” She smiled slightly when Clarke only hesitated briefly and then brushed past her and headed to the fires.

*********************************************

Clarke struggled back in pants grimacing at the dirt that caked them. She had shaken them out numerous times and even whipped them against the face of the rocks, but it had only loosened some of the dirt. At least she was clean now with a full belly, and her skin no longer felt like it was being suffocated by numerous layers of dirt.

The cold water of the shallow river had soothed her aching muscles, and she had scrubbed at her skin and hair with the small cake of soap that Lexa had pointedly tossed in to her lap after she had finished eating. Clarke had looked up, completely outraged, but when Lexa deliberately sniffed in her direction, her ire had melted away, because the brunette had a point. Clarke was offended by her own smell also. 

Finally clean and in a better mood, she made her way back to the camp smiling at the children who splashed in the shallow water. Some of them were fishing and a few other children ran along the riverbank playing tag. She stopped and watched enjoying the sounds of their hoots and laughter. She noticed a few women, whom she assumed were various mothers and caregivers, sitting along the rocks enjoying the almost warm spring day. 

It all seemed so normal, so benign. So…happy. Happy. She felt a fissure of apprehension shiver up her spine at the thought. These people were happy and content. They were….safe. Safe. The Mountain no longer loomed over them. It no longer stole their mothers and husbands and wives, their sisters and uncles, their children. No, now they lifted their faces to the blue sky, and they laughed and played along the riverbank. They were free. 

She tilted her head up and gazed at the bright blue of the sky, watching the soft white clouds whisper across the sky. The wind gently played with the ends of her blonde tresses and her eyes fluttered closed as she felt it caress her face. 

*********************************************

Lexa stood there in the shadows of the tree line watching the blonde stand on the giant rocks on the river bank. She smiled softly as the blonde tipped her head back. She felt the warmth pool in her belly as she gazed at the beautiful woman who stood silently on the rocks, her shadow dancing and spilling across the cracks in the rocks. She noted the relaxed posture and smiled again as she turned and left. 

********************************************* 

Clarke spent the rest of the day acquainting herself with the village and avoiding Lexa. She learned the layout of the village, noting the quickest routes through the village to the tree line. She watched the patrols and counted the warriors. 

Clarke didn’t linger after the final meal of the day, but instead made her weary way to her tent. She stripped off her clothing throwing them on to the back of one of the chairs. She eyed the dirt caked pants and shirt, wondering if she should just burn them at this point. She groaned and eyed the chest again, knowing she really couldn’t deny that she needed more clothing. She would worry about it tomorrow. 

She slipped into her worn shorts and shirt noting that the cotton was getting thinner. She was going to have to replace these soon too. She sighed as she looked up at the ceiling of the tent. Her muscles still ached, and she knew she was in for another ass kicking tomorrow. She groaned and threw one arm over her eyes. She was tired. So very, very tired, but she knew the nightmares would probably wake her again. She felt the tears burn at the back of her throat, and she turned on her side clutching one of the furs to her chest. She closed her eyes tightly and willed herself to sleep, praying the nightmares wouldn’t come tonight. But knowing her prayers would go unanswered, just like every night before.


	6. Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke learns a few lessons. Maybe. Oh and she changes her clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is chapter is dedicated to Jayenator565, who really wanted Clarke to change her clothes. 
> 
> The poem is called "Let a Child Smile" by Nikhil Parehk. I am using this without permission.

The guard shifted in place again as he heard the pained whimper come from the tent. The first time he had heard it, he had cautiously poked his head into the tent to make sure she wasn’t ill or hurt. He quickly realized that she was having a nightmare. He had backed out slowly and returned to his post, about twenty feet away from the right side of the tent’s entrance. 

The minutes had passed, and he had slowly relaxed when he heard nothing more from the tent. Until he heard the low wail pierce the night. He had immediately stiffened and strode to the tent flap but hesitated with his fist wrapped in the leather of the flap, unsure of what he should do. He could hear her tossing and turning, the sounds punctuated by low, guttural sobs. 

He shuffled his feet, glancing around, wishing there was someone else who could deal with this. He stiffened when he suddenly felt her presence behind him, he cursed under his breath and whirled around to be met by amused dark eyes. 

“Mordecai,” he growled. He hated when she sneaked up on him. She used to do it to him when they were children, and she hadn’t grown out of the annoying habit. 

“Malachi,” her white teeth flashed in the dark, and she gently nudged his shoulder with her own. 

“You going in there?” 

“No,” he whispered harshly. He sighed and shuffled his feet as they stood there in the dark listening to the low cries from the tent. 

“What should we do, Cai? We can’t just leave her like this. Can we?”

Mordecai opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by the sound of harsh retching in the tent. She sighed quietly, “It is over. She won’t sleep anymore tonight.” She turned and slipped back the way she had come, leaving a cursing Malachi who hurried back to his post. 

Mordecai slipped in between the tents, weaving her way through the dark until she reached her destination. She crouched down at the back side of the tent and waited patiently for the occupant to speak.

“How is she?”

“She dreams, and she cries out in her sleep.” 

“What did Malachi do?”

“The first time he heard her, he checked on her and then returned to his post.”

“And then?” the voice bit back impatiently.

She smothered a smile as she murmured, “He went back to the tent when he heard her crying, but he didn’t know what to do, so I made myself known,” she smirked when she finished, “he didn’t know I was there.”

“Good. No one should know you are there.” 

Silence. 

“She vomited again.” Mordecai glanced up at the stars noting that dawn was still hours off, “she won’t sleep again this night.”

“I know.” The words hung in the air between them, heavy and dank.

“Perhaps it would be better to let her go. To send her away?” 

Mordecai waited. And just when she thought she wouldn’t receive and answer, she heard the soft whisper that was more like a sigh, “I can’t. I already let her go once. I won’t do it again.” 

Mordecai didn’t bother to reply, there was really nothing left to say. 

“Get some sleep, Mordecai, send Ryder to patrol and keep an eye on her.” 

Mordecai slipped away to her own rest in the trees, leaving the occupant of the tent awake and worried. 

**********************************

Clarke wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and flopped back on the bed. She was so fucking tired. She knew without looking outside that dawn was still hours off, but she wouldn’t sleep anymore. Her eyes burned, but she didn’t dare close them again. She knew what she would see: Jasper’s accusing, wet eyes, the burned flesh of Maya’s face. The broken, weeping bodies of the dead pressing her all around crying and moaning her name, accusing her for killing their children, for tearing down the mountain, their home and sanctuary. 

She groaned as she heaved herself up out of bed, careful to avoid the vomit again. Again she snuck out, not noticing Malachi in the shadows. She performed the same ritual as the night before, gathering bark to scoop up the vomit and burn it. She ignored the pain in her palms as she clutched the cloth and scrubbed at the vomit stains. She ignored the first tear that spilled down her cheek, and she sat back on her heels pressing the back of her hands into her eyes. 

“Breathe, Clarke, just breathe,” she muttered to herself as she fought back the choking sobs. She couldn’t afford to cry. If she started now, she might never stop. She threw the cloth to the floor and slumped back on her bottom leaning against the side of the bed. She was so tired, but she forced her eyes open and slowly recited the poems her father used to write for her. 

Malachi stood in the dark listening to the low murmur of the blonde as she recited the words. He wasn’t sure, but he thought it was a poem. Mordecai would know. She was one of the few warriors who could read more than the basics, and she sometimes would recite poetry to him that she had read. He never really understood what she was saying, but it seemed to please his sister. 

He strained to hear the words: 

Let a child blissfully grow, 

Don't try and obstruct her natural flow. 

Let a child sleep, 

Don't try and break her dreams. 

Let a child run, 

Don't try and smack her ear-drum. 

Let a child confidently walk, 

Don't try and lure her with your talk. 

Let a child create, 

Don't try and teach her to hate. 

Let a child be innocent, 

Don't try and show her the art of disguise. 

Let a child be naughty, 

Don't try and instruct her to be haughty. 

Let a child play, 

Don't try and intentionally spoil her day. 

Let a child make mistakes, 

Don't try and show her the stick. 

Let a child roam in Sunlight, 

Don't try and hide her from the bright. 

Let a child express her thoughts, 

Don't try and be a mental block. 

And let a child prosper and SMILE, 

Don't try and expose her to worldly guiles. 

Malachi sighed, his heart heavy, as he listened to the words tremble and break inside the tent. 

*******************************

The next morning was a repeat of the same, except this morning Clarke had chosen to wear clothing she had found in the chest. The black pocketed pants fit her perfectly as did the tank top she chose this morning. She bypassed the leather jacket in favor of her hooded jacket, even though it was more than a little dirty. She would need to wash it soon. She fingered the blades, hesitating, and then decided to leave them behind for now. Yesterday, she had had problems hiding the blades when it became too warm to wear her jacket. She would simply retrieve the blades after training. 

She stepped outside the tent, and again she was met by the Commander who simply pointed in the direction of the training ground, but this time she also offered Clarke an apple. They didn’t speak as they made their way to the training ground.

Lexa was happy to see her wearing the new clothing, and she managed to hide her frown when she noticed that the blonde was still wearing her hooded jacket. But she also had her training sword strapped to her back. 

Lexa noticed that the blonde’s feet were dragging and her skin was a little paler than normal. 

“Eat, Clarke.” 

Clarke was too tired to argue and instead bit into the crisp apple enjoying the tart juice that slid across her tongue. She let out a little moan and then blushed when she realized what she had done. But she smirked when she noticed the commander stumble when she heard her moan. Interesting. 

She quietly munched on the apple, deliberately letting out another low moan, and she smirked even harder when she heard the sharp inhale next to her. She flicked her eyes over to the commander, smiling outright this time when saw the clenching jaw. Good. Served her right. 

For her part, Lexa was trying to ignore the moans. She knew the first one had been inadvertent, but now the blonde was just playing with her. Still she felt the heat curl in her belly and she quickened her pace to the training ground. 

She gestured for one of her warriors to take their place in the circle and then gestured for Clarke to enter also, ignoring the filthy look the blonde gave her. 

***************************************** 

“No, Clarke, the sentence is ‘Ge smak daun, gyon op nodataim.’ Now say it again.” Lexa tried to curb the bite in her voice as she eyed the blonde who had been doing her best to annoy Lexa since they had started the Trigedasleng lesson 45 minutes ago. 

“Get knocked down, get back up,” smirked the blonde. She sat across from the brunette on a log, trying to ignore the soreness that had started to settle in her joints form the earlier beating she had suffered again in the ring. Training my ass, she thought, more like beat Clarke into the ground. 

It did occur to her that maybe they were being so hard on her, because of her continued insolence towards their Heda, but she decided she didn’t much care. She was being trained, and soon she would be in a better position to take on Lexa, although not directly. She still needed a sound plan.

Lexa sighed feeling her patience growing thinner with every smirk from the blonde. She knew Clarke was baiting her, trying to make her angry, testing how far she could push her in front of everyone. Lexa wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction Heda becoming angry. 

“In Trigedasleng, Clarke.” 

“Get smacked dawn, gyon up nodatim.” Clarke smirked again, knowing she was slowly getting under Lexa’s skin. She knew it was childish, deliberately mispronouncing the Trigedasleng words. She actually knew some words, as Luna’s clan spoke a dialect similar to Trigedasleng. However, needling Lexa was satisfying, and she enjoyed pushing against that famed stoicism.

Lexa stared at Clarke, her face impassive, hiding her irritation and impatience. She fingered the top of her dagger, never breaking Clarke’s gaze. She smirked inwardly when the blonde broke first and looked away. She rose to her feet, standing above the blonde. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I have better things to do with my time than to sit here and try to teach a child. When you have decided to stop acting like a child, then we will continue our lessons.” Lexa turned to go, satisfied that she had made her point, but the blonde’s laugh stopped her short. 

“Acting like a child? You will teach me when I’m acting like an adult?” The blonde laughed and stood also, “You mistake me for someone who cares. I could care less if I learn your language.” Clarke glared at Lexa trying to put as much force behind her words as possible, without sounding like she was losing her temper. But Clarke actually did care, she did want to learn Trigedasleng. She needed to learn in order to trade and establish relationships with the other clans. It was key to her and her people’s survival. She just didn’t want Lexa to know that she actually agreed. 

Clarke stepped closer to Lexa until they were only a foot apart. She glared at her, noting the usual brunette’s stoicism. How she hated it! She wanted to claw her at her face, jam her thumbs in her eyes. She wanted to hurt her, to make her bleed. She wanted Lexa to lose that flat, indifferent look on her face, that same look she had given her at the mountain. The look that said Clarke wasn’t worth her time, wasn’t worth fighting for, wasn’t worth her loyalty. Wasn’t worth loving. 

“Make no mistake, Heda,” she hissed, “I don’t need you or your damn coalition.”

Lexa didn’t twitch a muscle in the face of the blonde’s vehemence. She simply stared at her, and then let a small smile bloom at the corners of her mouth, “Yes, Clarke. You do need my coalition. You would all be dead without me. You need me.” And she turned and started walking away, calling over her shoulder, “We will meet each morning after your training and continue your Trigedasleng lessons.” 

The blonde sputtered, angry that Lexa had turned her back on her, as if she was of no consequence. She quickly ran and caught up to Lexa, reaching out to grab the brunette’s shoulder, when she whirled around grabbing Clarke’s hand and spinning her away from her body. 

Clarke stumbled, feeling her body start to fall only to be pulled up hard by strong arms around her waist. Clarke gulped as she felt the strong body pressed against her own, the arms holding her firmly but gently. Her hands had automatically grabbed hold of the brunette’s shoulders to steady herself. 

She tried not to gulp as she stared at the brunette. She tried not to notice the dark heat lurking in the green, or the plump curve of her lips. She tried not to remember how it had felt all those months ago when Lexa had curled her fingers around her neck and pressed her lips against hers. She tried not to remember how she had tasted, and how she smelled of sun and trees. 

Her eyes flickered shut for a brief moment when she realized that she smelled the same. She leaned in slightly, her mouth opening unconsciously and inhaled deeply, tasting her scent on her tongue: the heat of the sun, the shadows of the trees, and the intoxicating buzz of her light sweat. 

She snapped her mouth shut and jerked back when she realized what she had done. She snapped her eyes open, noting the slight smile that played at the corners of the brunette’s mouth. She felt the arms fall away from her waist as Lexa stepped back. She immediately missed the feel of her body, and she growled in frustration at the realization.

Lexa arched her eyebrow at the red faced blonde. She looked furious. And needy. Lexa tried not to smile. Yes, the blonde definitely looked needy. She wasn’t nearly as unaffected by Lexa as she wanted to pretend. And while, Lexa had no doubt that part of Clarke wanted to kill her, she was risking everything on the part of Clarke that had the ability to forgive, to love.

“Dead without you? Are you serious? We were almost dead because of you!” She stood there fuming, barely able to contain her anger, ready to throttle Lexa the moment she opened her mouth. 

Lexa simply started at Clarke, slightly pursing her lips. She eyed the barely constrained fury rolling off the blonde. It actually felt like a living thing. It was truly impressive, and she had to admire Clarke’s self-control. So she chose her words carefully, knowing that Clarke wasn’t going to really hear her, wasn’t going to understand her, but she didn’t want the blonde to launch herself at her, for then she would be required to take action. 

“No, you were almost dead because of the Mountain Men. You pulled that lever, Clarke. Do not blame me for that,” she tensed her muscles readying for an attack, as she continued, “I know I put you in a hard position Clarke. I know exactly what I did, and while I do not regret saving my people, I wish I could have stood by your side and taken the mountain with you. But it was not in my people’s best interest at the time.” She gazed at the blonde, hoping that at the very least she had given her something to think about. 

Clarke just stared at her blankly, not really seeing Lexa, but rather seeing through her. She didn’t know what to say. She had no words that wouldn’t end in bloodshed, and she was coherent enough to understand that this was not the moment. So instead she chose to ignore Lexa’s word, refusing to contemplate what the brunette was really saying, refusing to allow herself to feel anything but righteous fury. 

“I thought you said you weren’t going to teach me until I stopped acting like a child,” the blonde snarked as she took a step back from Lexa, trying to put much needed distance between them before she lost her grip on her anger. 

Lexa arched an eyebrow. She wasn’t entirely surprised that the blonde had chosen to not hear her, to not understand, not to even acknowledge her words. She wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, demand that Clarke hear her, but she knew without a doubt that if she tried, Clarke would probably tear her face off with her teeth. And Lexa rather liked her own face right where it was. It was a good face. 

“I have changed my mind. You will learn Trigedasleng, Clarke. You need to learn, and you know this. I will however teach you as if you were a child. A young, petulant child, until you convince me that you can learn as an adult.” Lexa smirked at the blonde who just stood there with her mouth hanging open. 

“Of course, if you prefer, I could have Indra teach you?” Lexa asked innocently, as she challenged the blonde, “but I doubt Indra would be quite so patient as I.” She smiled slightly in victory, knowing that Clarke would not want to face Indra’s wrath. Clarke had seen how hard Indra pushed Octavia, and she didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her teaching methods. 

Clarke narrowed her eyes, debating if this was a battle she wanted to fight. She could accept Lexa’s mandate, and she could still do whatever she could to annoy her. 

“Besides, Clarke, by spending time with me, you should have more opportunities to try to kill me.” Lexa smirked at Clarke, “but you are going to have to do better. A lot better than what you’ve managed to do so far.” Lexa waved her hand dismissively in the air, “so far your efforts have been…lacking.”

Clarke’s narrowed her eyes, gritting her teeth as she seethed at the audacity of the brunette to mock her. “I thought mockery wasn’t the product of a strong mind, Heda,” she all but snarled.

Lexa chuckled lightly, but it was anything but humorous. “Oh no, Clarke, I wasn’t mocking you. I was just stating a fact. You are going to have to train harder and longer and do better if you think you will get the best of me, if you think you can kill me. Me. Heda.”

Lexa had the brief thought that she probably shouldn’t poke at her, but the more she angered Clarke, and stoked the fire, she hoped the quicker it would consume itself and burn out. She felt the worry niggle in her chest. What if the fire consumed Clarke? What would she do then?

“It would be my pleasure, Heda,” growled the blonde as she stood there trying not shake from the anger that burned through her. She would show her. She would train harder and better. She would become a great warrior, and then. And then she would kill Lexa. She would gut her like a fish. 

Lexa gazed at her for a moment, suddenly unsure if she had done more damage than good. She bit back the sigh, and nodded her head at the blonde and turned and walked away.


	7. Really Quick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick Note

Hello all, 

I'm not posting chapter 7 tonight, because I'm still fiddling with part of it. It didn't feel quite right, but I will be posting it tomorrow night. It's an important chapter. Well, I think it is anyway. 

Quick question though, do you think this story is too dialogue heavy? Not enough dialogue? I would appreciate your thoughts on the matter! Thank you! 

Cheers, 

Bae.


	8. Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, you are all awesome! Thank you so much for the feedback! Seems everyone likes the dialogue as is. I played around with this so much last night, that I had to divide the chapter into two, but I am posting them both tonight.

CHAPTER 7: Friends

“Hey, Clarke, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Clarke glanced up from her seat on the log, surprised to see Raven picking her way carefully over to her. She moved down the log a little, so the brunette would have room to sit. She reached out, her hand hovering under the mechanic’s elbow, unsure if she should help or let Raven maneuver herself down on to the log. She bit her lip, hating how she hesitated, and she felt sharp pain in her belly when Raven finally manage to plop down on the log with a small groan. 

She looked away briefly, not quite ready to meet the dark, knowing eyes of her friend. She relaxed slightly though when she heard the chuckle and felt the warm hand pat her knee. 

“All good, Clarke. All good.”

Clarke shifted awkwardly and then smiled at Raven. This was Raven. Raven had always had her back, even when they both had been angry and hurting over Finn.

“Did you talk to the Commander?”

Clarke looked at her confused for a moment, “Yes, we had Trigedasleng lessons.” 

Raven laughed, she could only imagine what Clarke had deliberately done to irritate the Commander, “Well, that must have been fun,” she snarked at the blonde, and then continued without waiting for a reply. 

“No, I mean did she tell you about the festival tonight?”

“Erm…no. She didn’t mention anything about a festival. Really? A festival? What’s it for?”

“Huh. Funny. I know she was going to. You must have ticked her off,” Raven raised an eyebrow at the blonde, already knowing the answer.

Clarke had the grace to blush, knowing she had acted more than a little childishly. The Commander just brought out the worst in her! Although, once upon a time, she had brought out the best in Clarke. Clarke shoved the thought away, burying it and refusing to think about what had been, and what was never going to be.

Raven decided to give her a break and replied quickly, “Well, it’s the spring festival. The Trikru officially welcome spring tonight. There is lots of food and music, singing, and dancing. Not to mention alcohol!” 

Clarke gaped at Raven for a minute, “Singing? Seriously, they sing?” Although, even as she said it, she knew she shouldn’t be surprised, the Boat Clan often sang and they played small flute like instruments. Why would the Trikru be any different? Just that the Trikru had always seemed to be made out of iron and steel. They were made for war, like machines. Machines that bled. Imagining them enjoying more artistic endeavors was still surprising to Clarke. 

“So you will be there, right?”

Be there? Why would she be there? Did she want to be there?

The blonde shifted on the log, picking at the hole in the knee of her pants that had started. “I don’t know, Raven. I’m not really in the mood for singing and dancing.” She snorted at the thought. 

“Well, tough. You’re going.” Raven looked sternly at her friend, daring her to say no. 

Clarke narrowed her eyes, never one to back down from a challenge, and as she opened her mouth to tell Raven that there was no way in hell she was going, the brunette clamped her hand down on her thigh. 

“It’s a small festival, Clarke. Only the Trikru. The big spring festival is in Polis in a couple of weeks. All the clans will gather along with our people. Tonight is just for the Trikru, and the few Skaikru who live here most of the year. You are expected to attend.” Raven searched her friend’s face, and gave her leg a gentle squeeze. “It will be fine, Clarke. O and I got your back. Please, Clarke?”

Clarke sighed, knowing when she had been beat. She was never going to be able to deny those soft, brown eyes. She never really had been able to before, and after everything that had happened, well, she owed Raven. She would always owe Raven, and she would spend the rest of her miserable life, short as it would be, paying Raven back, and she would never pay enough. She would never pay enough for any of them. 

She sighed. “Ok, you win.” She grimaced but couldn’t help but smile as Raven clapped her hands and laughed out loud. 

“Awesome!” Raven leveraged herself up off the log, slightly unsteady, but reassured at the feel of the strong hands around her waist guiding her. She looked back down at Clarke. “Wear something nice.” Raven cocked her head at the blonde, “Well, something that is clean and doesn’t have holes.” 

She leaned down and kissed the blonde’s cheek and then limped off, leaving a slightly stunned and petulant blonde in her wake. 

*********************************** 

Clarke stood in her tent later that night, wondering exactly what would constitute as “nice.” She sighed as she flipped through her meager clothing choices and then balefully eyed the trunk. She really didn’t want to open it up again, unless absolutely necessary. She sighed and gave in though, walking over to the trunk and slowly opening the lid. 

The jacket was on top, just where she had left it. She ran her fingers across the smooth leather, traced the intricate stitching. Her fingers twitched and part of her wanted to pull it up her arms, and smooth the sides down over her belly. She clenched her jaw and stiffened her resolve. 

“Does she really think she can buy my forgiveness with a jacket?” She growled under her breath. 

No one replied except for the cackling in her head, and she winced as she felt the flare of pain behind her eyes. She rubbed her forehead, knowing the pain wouldn’t subside any time soon. She shook her head to the side, as if she were trying to get water out of her ears, but it was no use. She could still hear them. Whispering and mocking her, cackling in their broken glee. 

She smacked the top of the jacket, “Go away!” She snarled, but she felt the bitter taste of salt in her mouth. They were here to stay, and could only be rooted out with blood and blade, and death. She picked up the jacket and set it aside. For now. For now, they were here to stay. 

*************************************** 

Clarke hesitantly made her way out of the tent, conscious of the form fitting pants she was wearing in her traditional black. But these were different, they weren’t heavy and didn’t have numerous pockets. The pants clung to her muscles and curves, and she pretended that she didn’t care that more could be seen of her than usual. The long sleeve shirt was a pale blue with a scoop neck and two buttons at the top. She had originally buttoned them, but at the lost moment had changed her mind. The shirt was soft and slipped around her curves, caressing her, and she was more than a little aware of the glances she received as she headed towards the main fire. 

She glanced around at the Trikru, many sitting around the fire eating. Long tables had been set up and were overflowing with food and drink. Children ran around and mother’s casually scolded them to not get too close to the fire. A dais was set up and on it sat a familiar antlered throne, but the woman sitting in the throne wasn’t so familiar. 

Clarke stood across the fire and gasped when she recognized the Heda sitting in her throne casually leaning to the side in deep conversation with one of her generals. Her hand clasped a mug, and she occasionally took a sip from it. Her hair was flowing down her back with simple braids in it and small white and blue flowers woven into the braids. Her face was clean and smooth of all war paint. She wore pants similar to Clarke’s own, with tall leather boots that embraced her calf muscles. She wore some type of red vest, the same color of her sash, which she wasn’t wearing tonight. Clarke couldn’t tell if it was cloth or leather, but it fit the Commander’s frame perfectly. It had obviously been tailored for her. And it fit…snugly. Very snugly, and the Heda’s long toned arms shone in the light of the fire. 

And as Clarke stared at her, she realized she wasn’t staring at the Commander or the Heda. This was Lexa. The same girl, no woman, who had said to her once, “Not everyone, not you.” This was the same woman who had looked at her as if Clarke held the answer to the questions Lexa dared not ask. This was the woman who had kissed her, and who had haunted her for months. And she was beautiful.

Lexa felt the weight of her stare shivering across her bare skin. She knew exactly how long Clarke had been standing there, simply staring. As a matter of fact, she knew exactly when Clarke had made her way to the feast fire. Nothing had slipped her gaze. She had smiled when she realized that Clarke was wearing the blue shirt and pants. She had fought with herself to not turn and openly stare at the blonde, to not let her gaze drift across the warm curves in front of her. Somehow she knew that Clarke wouldn’t find it quite as pleasing as she did. So she had settled for casually flicking her eyes in her direction, while she listened to Baltus blather on about something or other. She had stopped listening the moment she had felt Clarke.

But now Clarke was looking at her, as if she was seeing her. Finally seeing her, after always thinking she had seen her, when in reality, she never had. She dared to finally turn her head and look at the blonde. She smiled slightly and nodded to her, but felt her heart plummet, when she saw the wall go up, and Clarke once again retreated behind her armor. She bit back a sigh and turned her attention back to Baltus. 

She knew exactly when Clarke turned and walked away. 

******************************** 

Clarke pushed her way through the crowd, undecided if she should just return to her tent or not. The decision was made for her when a young child grabbed her hand and pulled her to the fire, forcing her down on a small space on a log between a man and woman she didn’t recognize. 

“Sit,” the young girl murmured in broken English, and she retreated only to return quickly with a plate brimming with food, and a mug of what Clarke could only assume was some type of alcohol. 

Clarke murmured her thanks, unsure who the child was, nor did she recognize anyone in her immediate vicinity. The Trikru man and woman had both nodded to her and the woman smiled at her and then they both returned to their own plates of food. 

She felt awkward and unsure as she sat, shoulder to shoulder between them, hoping she wasn’t interrupting them. She glanced around, taking in the laughing faces, listening to the cadence of their speech as it rose and fell. It was soothing, and she wasn’t sure why she was surprised by this. There was so much laughter. She couldn’t really recall when she had seen so many Trikru laughing and chatting together. She looked down at her plate, the smell wafting pleasantly up to her nostrils. 

She idly supposed that they had reason to laugh now. Now that the mountain was gone. Their enemy entombed in the earth. She felt the old familiar ache grow inside, and despite her hunger, she grabbed the plate and started to set it down on the ground in front of her, when she felt a hand come down on hers. It was the woman on her left.

“No. Eat.” She smiled kindly at Clarke, nodding to the food and then to her. “Eat. Drink, Skai Prisa.” Her light brown eyes glinted almost gold in the firelight, and Clarke found herself shyly smiling back. The girl patted her on the knee when she saw Clarke smile, and then she hummed in contentment when Clarke grabbed a piece of dripping meat and shoved it in her mouth.

She felt the flavor burst on her tongue, and she groaned as she hurriedly chewed and swallowed. She couldn’t help but lick her fingers, and she blushed when the girl chuckled at her and then nudged her shoulder. 

“Gut, sha? yes?” Her English was broken, just like the child’s, but Clarke understood, and she nodded eagerly. 

“Yes. Sha. Sha. Very good.” Clarke smiled again and grabbed a piece of bread, wiping up the juices on the plate from the meat and popped it into her mouth. She hummed to herself and looked up again at the girl who was laughing with a companion on her left. 

The girl turned back to Clarke and tapped her chest lightly, “Peregrine,” and then she reached across Clarke and tapped the man on his knee, “Linus.” Linus turned and grunted at her as he chewed, and then he set his plate down and strode back to the food tables. 

Peregrine smiled at Clarke again and then leaned back slightly so Clarke could see the woman on her left. The other woman was older, about Clarke’s mother’s age, and she nodded to Clarke. She didn’t smile, but her eyes were kind. “Lark,” she simply said and nodded to Clarke again, who nodded back and turned her attention back to Peregrine.

“Peregrine. That is a beautiful name. It’s a type of bird, sha?”

Peregrine tipped her head at Clarke, momentary confusion spreading across her face. But she laughed, when Clarke spread out her arms and started flapping them up and down. She even opened her mouth and cawed and repeated, “Bird. Peregrine.”

“Sha, Skai Prisa. Peregrine. Bird.” And she too spread out her arms and mimicked flying, accidentally knocking into Lark’s shoulder who just grumbled good-naturedly at the young woman. 

Peregrine shifted slightly closer to Clarke, leaning in and pointed across her body to Lark, “Fisa.”

“Fisa? Fisa…” Clarke scrunched her brow, knowing the word was familiar. “Fisa! Doctor!” Clarke nodded eagerly at Peregrine, “My mother is a Fisa.” She thought for a moment, trying to remember her lesson earlier with the Commander. 

“Um…my nomon Fisa?” She glanced questioningly at Peregrine. 

“Ah. Ah. Yu nomon op Fisa.”

Clarke carefully sounded out the words, “Yu no-mon op Fisa.” She smiled when Peregrine nodded, but then she pointed at Clarke and said, “Ain nomon op Fisa.”

“Ain?” Clarke smiled when she remembered what Lexa had told her in their lesson. “Ain, is mine or my. Right. Sha. Ain nomon op Fisa!” She glanced triumphantly at Peregrine who laughed and tapped her on the knee, nodding approvingly. 

Lark nudged Peregrine and started speaking to her in rapid Trigedasleng, and Clarke couldn’t keep up, so she returned her attention to her plate. She popped a few berries in her mouth, savoring the burst of sweetness on her tongue. She was so busy, she didn’t immediately notice Linus had returned and stood in front of her. 

She glanced up quickly, tensing and then relaxed slightly when she realized he was holding a plate out to her. It was mounded high with the juicy meat she had eaten earlier. Her mouth watered at the sight, and she glanced back up to Linus’ impassive face. Was this a trait of all Trikru or just warriors, this refusal to show any emotion on their faces? What were they afraid someone would accuse them of having fun? Was there a fun police around somewhere in the bushes? He interrupted her thoughts when he wiggled the plate in front of her, “Eat.”

She picked up a piece from the plate and put it on her own, meeting his eyes again, and he jiggled the plate at her again, nodding to her own plate, “More.”

She grabbed two other pieces putting them on her own plate, and he nodded approvingly at her, and then squeezed down on to the log next to her, turning his attention to his plate. 

“Mochof,” she whispered to him, and he grunted at her again, not bothering to stop eating. She wanted to laugh, but instead a small smile bloomed across her lips, and she popped another piece of meat in her mouth.

She sat there squeezed between Peregrine and Linus, listening to the laughter floating around her and the crackle of the fire, clanking of cups and plates, and the squeals of children, all to the heavy thump of the drums. 

As she stared at the people around her, she realized that she could get used to this. She didn’t know whether she should be thankful or afraid at the thought.

********************************* 

Lexa nodded absently at her guards as she entered her tent, letting the heavy flap fall shut behind her. She needed a few moments of privacy, time to think about her previous conversation with Clarke during their lesson. She hadn’t had the opportunity to speak with Clarke at the festival, but she had watched her, happy to see that she had apparently made a friend in young Peregrine. Peregrine was a talented tailor, as a matter of fact it had been she who had made the blue shirt Clarke wore that night. 

She chuckled to herself when she remembered how both Clarke and Peregrine had spread out their arms and waggled them around. She wasn’t sure what they were trying to do, but it had apparently delighted them both. She shook her head, the chuckle dying on her lips, as she briefly closed her eyes, remembering how Clarke had looked at her earlier.

She strode over to the table and picked up the little wooden doll. She gazed at it, remembering when he had carved it months ago. Carving was not her forte, and she had nicked her fingers more than once, and sliced open her finger. It had required stitches from Nyko, who had known better than to ask. She ran the pad of her thumb over the features. The carving wasn’t well done, but it was unmistakably the Skai Prisa.

She wrapped her fingers around the doll, forming a tight fist. She felt her throat tighten and she held her fist against her heart, and then she raised it and opened her hand, brushing her lips across the face of the doll. It was silly, childish. It was desperate and weak, but it eased the tightness in her throat, and for a brief moment, the cold hollow in her chest didn’t hurt quite as much. 

She tucked the doll into the inside pocked of her coat, where it would lay near her heart. It was childish, but she had so little of Clarke left, and perhaps carrying the tiny doll around would help ease the constant worry. 

She frowned as she replayed Clarke’s words again in her mind, feeling the blonde’s vehemence cloud the air between them. She recognized the guilt in her anger, the pain shadowing her eyes. Lexa was intimately familiar with that kind of ravenous guilt that gave birth to an untamable anger, even hatred. 

Her frown deepened, and then slowly eased, and a smile crossed her lips. 

“She called me Heda. More than once. Not Commander, but Heda,” she murmured out loud in the tent. It was significant. Heda was her Trikru title. The Skaikru had always referred to her as Commander, because they were not subordinate. They were not Trikru, and did not recognize Lexa’s sovereignty. And Clarke had first called her Commander, but had soon stopped in favor of Lexa. And Lexa had allowed it. She was the only one. She wondered if Clarke realized what that meant, that out of all of her people; no one else had ever been given permission to be so casual, so intimate with the Heda. Only Clarke. 

She smiled again realizing what Clarke probably didn’t know yet. Clarke was starting to consider herself one of them, she recognized Lexa as Heda. Soon. Soon, she hoped Clarke would remember that Heda had always been Lexa to her. Underneath the masks, war paint, and scars, they had always been Lexa and Clarke to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts on Peregrine? I'm liking her, and may use her more in the story.
> 
> What do you think about the scene with Lexa and the doll? I actually really enjoyed writing it.


	9. Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I loved writing this chapter, especially how Lexa reacts to Clarke in this chapter. I think this is a chapter many of you will get a kick out of. At least I hope so!

CHAPTER 8: Again

The next few days continued much the same. Each morning Lexa met her outside her tent, no matter how early Clarke tried to sneak out. She always had food, which she would silently hand to Clarke. They rarely spoke, just walked. 

Each morning Clarke went to the training ground, where she was slowly beaten into the ground. But each day she improved and fought back. After morning training, Clarke would sit with Lexa for an hour or two learning Trigedasleng. The length of the lesson depended solely on how long Lexa could maintain her usual calm, before Clarke’s petulance and needling became too much for her, and she would leave before she lost her temper. But as the days passed, Clarke discovered that taunting and needling Lexa was no longer as satisfying. She didn’t want to think too hard as to why that was. 

Clarke usually spent her early afternoons wandering the camp, sometimes she pitched in at the construction site, reveling in the harsh labor. She often spent time by the river watching the children. Though she rarely approached them, she was enamored with their play as they ran, swam, and wrestled. Sometimes they would wave to her, and she would wave back, feeling a gentle warmth in her cold chest, before it too would quickly disappear. 

Late afternoons were usually spent learning to use a bow more efficiently. She quickly realized her bow skills needed work. A lot of work. Ryder had not been amused when she had accidentally shot him in the ass. Lexa had seemed amused by it though, judging from the snort she barely held back when Ryder cursed the sky and the blonde as Nyko dug the arrow out of his bloody backside. 

She spent most of her evenings around the fires with Raven and Octavia smiling as they laughed and joked. She eventually relaxed enough to engage in the Trikru version of small talk, which more often than not led to arm wrestling. She was getting better at it, even beating one warrior. She had felt triumphant, even though said warrior was only about 13. Still, a victory was a victory. 

Occasionally she would visit Peregrine when she was in the area. More often than not she was in Polis, as she was a much sought after tailor. They would go to the river and skip rock, and surprisingly Clarke was rather good at it, seeming to know exactly how to flick her wrist to get the most distance while just skimming the water. Peregrine would laugh and accuse her of cheating and Clarke would just shrug and taunt her good-naturedly, but Clarke didn’t bother to tell her it was probably because of her training with the thin blades that she hid in her sleeves. 

And sometimes…well sometimes, Clarke would feel the weight of HER stare burning into her skin, and she would know without ever looking up who it was. Her skin would prickle and itch, and she wanted to scrub at it, scrub away her gaze, scrub away her. And despite how her hands twitched and she ground her teeth trying not to flinch, she always eventually flinched and always looked up. Looked for her. And when she did finally meet her eyes, she always cursed herself for noticing the deep jade hues splashed with flecks of storm clouds. Not matter the distance, it was if she called to Clarke, and Clarke cursed herself for wanting to answer her. 

But the nights…she dreaded the nights. Each was a never-ending loop of nightmares and exhaustion. Her stomach burned and her throat bruised as she vomited each night. Except now, she vomited in a pail. 

The second night at camp, Clarke had stepped into her tent battered and exhausted from training all day. She sighed as she stepped inside her tent, pulling her jacket off and tossing it on the back of a chair. She didn’t particularly care that it slipped and fell to the floor of the tent. She kicked off her worn boots and walked over to the wash basin, intent upon ridding herself of the dirt. She froze when she noticed the enamel chipped bucket carefully tucked up next to the side of her bed. It was sitting on top of the stain from last night, and she felt her face heat at the thought that someone had been in her tent and had noticed the vomit. She nudged the bucket to the side and stared at the spot where the stain should have been. Someone had scrubbed at it until it was mostly gone. 

She honestly didn’t know how to feel about it. At first, she had felt a tremble of relief that it would make cleaning up after herself so much easier, but then she felt the apprehension curl at the base of her spine. Someone knew. Someone knew she was weak, and they could use it against her. She wondered if she should care more about that, but instead she just felt drained and brittle. Everything was slowly crumbling around her, and she wasn’t sure if she could keep picking up the pieces as they fell into dust and ruin.

So for now, she vomited in the pail each night and emptied it in the fire. And she sat on the floor leaning against her bed reciting old poems that hardly mattered anymore, as memories of another life flickered and faded before her eyes.

And each night, unbeknownst to her, Malachi listened to her broken voice, and he wished for better days, while Mordecai crouched outside a tent talking to a shadow. 

***************************** 

It had been days of constant training and learning and fragmented nights, and the blonde was pale and shaking. Her strength was flagging, and it seemed only her anger for the Commander drove her forward slashing with her sword and baring her teeth. She was all fury and hopelessness, a raging tempest without any finesse or strategic offense.

She attacked with brittle brute force, but her strength began to fail on the downswing of her sword and gravity took over, and each time she was slower to raise her sword to defend herself. Still she grit her teeth, refusing to be cowed or beaten, refusing to break, even though she simply wanted to let go, to fall to her knees and beg for no more. No more terrors, no more pain, no more guilt.

But she couldn’t. She pushed and pushed, and her mind slowly fractured along the edges, and her eyes blurred along the curves as colors bled into each other. It was all a dusty gray, and the blue streaked faces, the clashing blades, the swirling dust simply melted and grew, swallowed her whole, and she didn’t know where the sky began and the ground ended. And she was nothing. Simply nothing. She saw nothing. She heard nothing. She felt consumed by nothing. 

Except. Green. Just Green. Always green. When the world around her blurred and shuddered and she could no longer recognize the faces of her friends, and everything shifted and faded into mute and opaque…she only saw green, she only felt green, she only heard green. Always chips of forest green. Always watching her and following her, weighting her and stripping her of all sense of conviction. Always. Fucking. Green.

And Lexa watched day after day. 

*********************************

And today, on the eleventh day, or maybe it was the thirteenth day, she really couldn’t tell the days apart anymore; Lexa watched them spar for an hour, noting that the blonde was already showing improvement in her form, but she was waning quickly. She gestured for one of her warriors and spoke quietly to her and then sent her back towards camp.

“Em pleni! Ste daun!” She gestured the warrior out of the ring and dismissed the rest of them, leaving her and the blonde alone.

Clarke bent over, her chest heaving as she fought for breath. She was so tired, so angry. The nightmares had been even worse last night, children with weeping bloody eyes holding their arms out to her. She had dry heaved into the pail and then fallen out of bed and had lain there cursing Lexa, until her voice cracked and only short painful gasps spilled out between her lips.

Every time she closed her eyes she saw them, but when she opened her burning, gritty eyes she swore she could see them fading in and out of the shadows; and she didn’t know which was worse: ghosts haunting her at night or haunting her during the day. 

She had lain there, wishing the hollow ache in her chest would simply swallow her whole, and then she could be done with it. Done with all of it. Of the nightmares, the guilt, of Lexa. Done with herself. But she had finally dragged herself out of bed, her mind finally silent. She had put it off for days, and now she needed to do it. It was the only way. She pushed aside the twinge in her chest at the thought, as she carefully dressed and slipped the blades up her sleeves. 

She watched as Lexa ambled closer to her, until she was within arm’s reach. She bent over and coughed, dropping her sword and grasping both her legs just above her knees, holding herself up. She knew she looked what she was, weary and beaten. But what Lexa didn’t know, would kill her.

Lexa watched as the blonde bent over and heaved, noting that she still wore the tattered jacket. She sighed. She wasn’t stupid. Did the blonde really think that Lexa didn’t know? Heda always knew. It was what had kept her alive so long. So she stepped closer and reached out and placed her left hand gently on the blonde’s right shoulder.

“Clarke.” She waited for the blonde to make her move remembering she was left handed.

Clarke froze, trying not to flinch when she felt the hand rest upon her shoulder. She flickered her eyes upward, noticing that Lexa had left her torso wide open. She was inches away, and she could feel the anger swirl in her belly. She coughed again, letting go of her left knee and bringing her left fist up to her mouth to cough again. 

“Clarke.” She waited patiently watching each twitch of the blonde’s muscles. She watched the blonde’s left hand come to her mouth, felt the blonde’s cough vibrate up her arm, and Lexa slowly relaxed her left hand that still rested on the blonde’s shoulder. 

Do it. Now. Do it! 

She coughed again, harder, and leaning forward, dropping her right wrist and feeling the blade slip snugly into her hand. She lurched forward, stepping inside Lexa’s left arm and turning her body to bring the blade to bear against the brunette’s ribs. 

Lexa saw the flash of the blade, but she was already moving, dropping her left hand and catching the blonde’s right wrist. She wrapped her fingers around it and instead of trying to throw the blonde away from her, she jerked her forward and to the right with a long sweeping gesture, effectively spinning the blonde around while she stepped back.

Clarke felt the pain shoot up her wrist and then her body spun around until her back was flush against the commander’s front, with both of her arms wrapped around her, crossing her arms and gripping her wrists. She was effectively immobilized, and she dropped the blade with a cry when she felt the bones in her wrist shift from the pressure of Lexa’s hand.

“Did you really think I didn’t know, Clarke? Didn’t know that you keep a blade in each sleeve?” she hissed at the blonde tightening her arms as she tried to wriggle out of her grasp.

Lexa kicked her legs apart, bumping her forward so she was slightly stooped over with her butt pushing into the commander’s groin. She tried to ignore the tight, round muscle effectively grinding into her while she held the blonde off balance. 

Clarke tried to wiggle out of her grasp, but it only made her bottom grind harder into the commander’s crotch. Her wrists ached and her shoulders burned from holding the weight of her stooped body as her arms were crossed in front of her and pulled to the sides by Lexa. 

“Fuck you, Lexa! Fuck you! Let me go!”

Clarke shuddered as she felt the hot warmth of the commander’s breath skate across her ear as Lexa leaned in and growled at her. She felt the growl reverberate across her nerves, and she tried not to tremble at the feel of the hot breath skating across her skin. She felt the hot mouth wrap around the lobe of her left ear, and she stifled a groan when she felt Lexa’s wet tongue sucking lightly, and then Clarke screamed when she felt the commander’s sharp tooth pierce her tender flesh. 

Lexa smiled at the tang of blood hit her tongue. Clarke needed to learn that there were consequences to trying to kill the Heda. She sucked lightly at the small puncture wound, enjoying the sound of Clarke’s short scream that turned to soft whimpers. 

She straightened, pulling the blonde flush against her front. She released her wrists but kept her arms wrapped around her, still effectively holding her in place. She sucked one more time at the wound and then pulled back slightly and pressed her lips tenderly against the salty skin of the blondes’ neck.

She hummed and whispered against her skin, “Heda always knows, Clarke.”

Clarke felt the anger slowly melt away. She simply didn’t have the energy to maintain the fury needed to fight Heda right now. Instead she closed her eyes and tried not lose her composure when she felt the soft lips press into her neck. She hated Lexa. Hated how much she wanted to simply stand there in her arms and feel the warmth of her lips against her skin. 

“Let me go, Lexa.” The brunette smiled when she heard her name for the second time. Finally. It was a start.

Clarke hung her head, exhausted and wounded. Feeling the defeat seep into her bones. She felt the arms slowly loosen and the lithe body step away from her. She immediately missed it, and silently cursed herself for the loss she felt. 

Lexa slowly released her, stepping back and watched as the blonde just stood there with her head hanging down, her arms trembling, drops of blood staining her ear and neck. Her heart ached as she gazed at the lines of defeat plainly etched into her flesh. 

“Clarke…”

“No, Lexa. Just fucking no.” Her voice cracked, and she was too tired to care. 

“How did you know?”

“I’m Heda because I know, Clarke. I wouldn’t have lived so long, if I didn’t know.” 

Clarke looked up and flicked her eyes at her, suddenly curious. She knew Lexa was young, only a couple years older than herself. 

“So long?” 

Lexa eyes the blonde for a moment, wondering if she should continue. She sighed. What would it hurt? Maybe it would help her understand. 

“I am the oldest Heda. Hedas are usually called when they have seen 10 or 11 of the same seasons of when they are born,” she eyes the blonde impassively as she continued, “Hedas die young. They live for their people, and they die for their people. Their people use them up quickly, drain them of their vitality, their strength, their sacrifice, and then another child is called. I have outlived the oldest Heda by many summers.” 

“How old are you? How old were you when you were called?” She wasn’t sure why she cared, she just knew that she did. Lexa had always seemed ageless, despite how young she looked. She assumed it was due to the fact that she was a reincarnated spirit. She idly wondered when she had started believing in reincarnation, believed that Lexa had lived a dozen lifetimes, perhaps more.

She openly stared at the high cheekbones, the slender nose, and soft lips. Her skin was smooth despite the ravages of war, and the hunger of her people. But her eyes. Her eyes ancient and burdened. And she realized with a growing sense of both anxiety and awe, that these forest eyes had seen worlds birthed and civilizations crumbled. Time had no meaning for the spirit of Heda. It simply existed, and was reborn again and again into each child, only to be consumed shortly by the very people it led and protected. She didn’t want to acknowledge the ache she felt at the thought. 

“I was born during the harshest days of Winter’s Breath. I have seen 21 Winter’s Breaths, and I had only seen 10 summers when I was called by the spirit of Heda. I ascended after 12 Winter’s Breaths.”

“Ascended?” 

Lexa hesitated a moment, searching the blue eyes in front of her. They looked less angry now, and she wondered if Clarke would understand.

“The spirit of Heda calls more than one child, but only one ascends once they have passed the trials. The one who ascends is the one who is worthy to be Heda.” 

“Trials?” Clarke didn’t like the sound of that. She really did not like the sound of a child undergoing trials. She had already seen the bloody blade of Trikru justice, and she tightened her muscles in an attempt to hold back the shudder that boiled under her skin. 

Lexa gazed at her calmly, noting the anxious edge shadowing her blue eyes. The trials were sacred, and were rarely spoken of, and especially not to someone who wasn’t Trikru. She sighed and tried not to be too amused at how the blonde jumped. 

“The trials are sacred, Clarke, a birthright of the Trikru. The Heda has always ascended from the Trikru line, and we do not speak of it to those who are not Trikru,” she hesitated again and then shrugged, “the trials are…necessary.” She stared impassively at the blonde. 

Clarke lost her battle with the shudder, but she tried to hide it by wrapping her arms around herself. She heard the heaviness in the brunette’s voice, had seen how her eyes had darkened and flickered. No, the trials were not something the brunette wanted to think about. That much was obvious, and while it stirred Clarke’s curiosity, it caused her chest to ache at the thought of what a young Lexa had most likely endured, still endured for her people.

She hadn’t realized the Hedas were so young. Died so young. And another replaced them, the same way you would replace a worn out tool. She glanced away, uncomfortable at the thought of a young Lexa being called, only to be used up and thrown away when she was no longer of use to her people. 

Lexa watched quietly as the blonde turned away. Perhaps…just perhaps…

Lexa scooped up the fallen blade and held it out to Clarke, smiling slightly at the look of surprise. 

“You never know when you may need to defend yourself, Clarke,” she glanced meaningfully at the blonde, “Or when you may need to fight for someone else.” 

Clarke nodded and accepted the blade, carefully sliding it up her right sleeve. She brushed the dirt off her pants and shirt, and straightened her hair. 

“I’m not done, you know,” she muttered quietly, but the usual vehemence was lacking in her tone.

“I know,” replied the brunette as she stared at the blonde. She might not be done yet, but she was a step closer to being done. 

************************************************* 

Lexa nodded her head and then motioned for the blonde to follow her back towards camp. She thought at first she would refuse, and she fixed the blonde with a stern look. She bit back a chuckle when the blonde just rolled her eyes at her and made her way to her side. 

“Did you really have to bite me?” The blonde asked plaintively as she rubbed at the dried blood on her ear and neck. 

“Did you really have to try to kill me?” shot back the brunette as she continued on her way.

Clarke didn’t bother to reply to that, just grumbled under her breath and walked next to Lexa.

They walked quietly, bypassing the main trail to camp. 

“Where are we going?”

“To the paddocks. It is time you went and saw your mother, Clarke. Lincoln and Octavia will accompany you.” 

Clarke jerked to a halt, immediately angry that Lexa would assume to send her to Camp Jaha. 

“Maybe, I don’t want to go,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest and stubbornly refusing to go any further. She waited for Lexa to turn and look at her. And she glared harder at her when she saw her usual stoic mask firmly in place. 

“Maybe I’m not ready, hmmmm, Lexa? Did you ever consider that?! No, of course you didn’t,” railed the blonde ignoring the look the brunette gave her. “No, of course you didn’t, because you are the big, bad Heda, and everyone bows to your every fucking whim!” 

There was that word again: fucking. The brunette wondered idly what it really meant. She really should ask Octavia some time. “Are you done?” 

Clarke’s tirade ground to a halt at the quiet voice of the commander, and she gaped at her. 

“Your mother misses you, Clarke, she wants to see you. She needs to see you.” Lexa stressed the word need, knowing the blonde needed to hear it, needed to understand what it really meant.

“Yeah, well, I…” her voice trailed off and she looked away, unable to meet the commander’s eyes. She didn’t want her mother to see her like this. So angry and bitter, so broken. 

“Your mother has suffered enough, Clarke,” she whispered, hoping the blonde would see reason, “and so have you.” 

She couldn’t even bring herself to smile at the sudden slump of defeat in the blonde’s shoulders. 

“Come, we are almost there.” She turned and continued on through the trees until they reached the paddock. Lincoln and Octavia were sitting astride their horses, with a third one waiting for Clarke. 

She gestured to Clarke, stooping slightly and cupping her hands, waiting patiently. 

Clarke walked slowly over, waving casually to Lincoln and Octavia, but her eyes were glued to the commander who was bent over slightly still cupping her hands, waiting to boost Clarke into the saddle. Clarke dropped her left hand low, feeling the end of the blade poke her skin as she approached the brunette. She stood facing Lexa, realizing how easy it would be to plunge her blade into the neck that was inches away from her hand. 

Except it wasn’t easy. She had already failed twice now, and she had blood staining her neck for her reward for her latest failure. And did she really want to waste the energy trying again today? The blades clearly weren’t going to be an option

She continued to stare down at her and then blinked hard when the commander raised knowing, green eyes up at her. She almost backed up a step, and she almost reached out and tried to plunge the blade into her neck, despite knowing that she wouldn’t be successful. She also wasn’t quite prepared for the consequences that Lincoln and Octavia would surely face if they were to slow to even stop her attempt. She wouldn’t try again for them. At least that was what she told herself as she placed her left boot in the commander’s hands and heaved herself up with the commander’s help. It had nothing to do with the images of a young Lexa in too big armor stumbling around in her mind. No, it had nothing to do with that.

Once astride, she grabbed the reins and looked down into soft green eyes. She looked at the hand that rested on the horse’s left shoulder, inches from her knee.  
“There is food and blankets in your saddle bag.” 

Lexa reached behind her and quickly pulled the sword and scabbard from her back and held it up to Clarke. 

“Just in case. Your training sword isn’t enough.” 

Clarke looked down, surprised that the commander would offer her one of her own swords, especially after she had just tried to kill her. The brunette was either stupid or trying to show Clarke she could be trusted. She knew Heda wasn’t stupid, so she sighed and reached down and grabbed the sword, her fingers grazing the commander’s. She pretended it had been an accident, and she jerked her hand back, and glanced at the commander out of the corner of her eye. She grit her teeth at the knowing smile. Damn her! 

“Come. We’re burning daylight,” Octavia said as she pressed her horse forward, Lincoln quickly falling into gate with her. Clarke looked one last time at warm, verdant eyes and turned her horse, clucking to him as she quickly caught up with Lincoln and Octavia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think of Clarke's 2nd attempt? More importantly, what did you think of how Lexa handled it? We know that Lexa has a brutal streak in her, she has to in order for her people to survive; but I think she also has a bit of a edgy mischievous streak in her also.


	10. The Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your reviews on the last two chapters. You are all so wonderful, and I actually was able to work quite a bit on the story today, so I'm posting another chapter. This is one of my favorites, especially the final scene. Hope you all enjoy.

CHAPTER 9: The Return

Clarke groaned as she finally slid off the horse at the gates of Camp Jaha. She had learned to ride under Luna’s careful supervision, but she was still sore from getting her ass handed to her this morning. Again. Not to mention, her ear ached and stung from where Lexa had bit clear through the lobe. She had managed to get most of the blood off, and neither Octavia nor Lincoln had mentioned the small wound, although they had seen it. 

Perhaps they had seen the stain of red on Lexa’s lips and had drawn their own conclusions. Either way, Clarke was just glad they had held their tongues.

************************************

The ride had been long but relatively uneventful. Neither Lincoln nor Octavia had spoken much, all too aware of the heartache that plagued their friend. They had simply ridden together, listening to local wildlife moving around in the bushes, and the wind rustling through the new leaves. It had been quiet, even peaceful, and Clarke had needed the hours to rest her mind, to order her thoughts. 

She wasn’t ready to face them, especially her mother. But she didn’t think she ever would be, but Lexa had been right. She had put it off long enough. 

************************************

They waited patiently outside the gates as the guards quickly hollered to each other and made their way to the outer gate. 

Clarke tried to hide her nerves. Not very successfully. 

“Steady. It will be fine, Clarke,” murmured Lincoln as he reached out and took her horse’s reins. 

The gate creaked and opened and two guards appeared and nodded to them gesturing for them to come in. 

Clarke didn’t know their names, but she vaguely recognized them. She pushed down the trepidation as she walked through the gates and she nodded briefly at the people who stopped to stare. She felt the smile briefly flit across her face at the few children running around and playing. 

She tried to ignore the whispers and murmurs as people stopped and stared. She felt Octavia move closer to her side and bump shoulders with her, as Lincoln took their horses to the stables she could see in the distance. 

“I’ve got your back, Clarke.” 

Clarke looked over and smiled, relieved when she saw the dark, shining eyes smiling at her. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin and strode confidently towards the ark.

She came to an abrupt halt when she heard the high, excited voice.

“Clarke! Clarke!”

She turned and watched as the tall slim figure raced towards her laughing, and she held out her arms, feeling the sheer relief cascade throughout her body when she recognized him. 

“Monty!” She barely gasped as he hurled himself into her arms, and she grabbed him tightly, holding him, relishing the feel of her friend’s arms around her. He had helped her bring down the Mountain. Beautiful, sensitive Monty had given her the power to pull the lever, and then she had left him when she knew he still needed her. She felt the pangs of guilt knife through her, and her body jerked against his. 

She pulled back, tears in her eyes and she opened her mouth, when he grabbed her face in his hands. 

“No, Clarke. Don’t. Nothing else matters but this. You are here. You are here.”

She smiled through her tears at her beautiful friend as he gazed at her gently, still cupping her face as the tears rolled down his eyes. “It’s ok, Clarke. It is ok. I promise.”

She nodded, she didn’t deserve his forgiveness nor his understanding, but she gladly accepted it, and hugged him again. She looked over his shoulder as she heard the excited shouts of children. He turned swiftly and raised his arm calling excitedly, “Harper! Come quickly!” He turned back and threw his arm around Clarke’s shoulders and his other arm around Octavia’s and they turned to face the young woman who was jogging toward them laughing.

Clarke couldn’t hold back the laugh as she watched the young woman with apple cheeks and bright eyes throw herself at the three of them. And they wrapped their arms around each other and laughed, lightly knocking their heads together, giddy in their joy. 

Octavia laughed and then looked up past her friends and noticed him standing there just staring at them. She felt the laughter trail off slightly. He had protested when she and Lincoln had left to join the Trikru, and she had missed him, even though she still visited him, and he her. But it hadn’t been the same. Not since Clarke had left. She felt the hope bloom in her chest. But maybe now that Clarke was back, they could build a new kind of normal. 

“Bellamy.” She nodded at her brother, noticing his dark eyes never leaving the blonde. She felt Clarke tense against her, and the laughter died down as they all slowly parted and turned to face Bellamy. 

Clarke felt the smile waver and shudder on her face, as she bit her lower lip. He just stood there for a moment, and she noticed he looked good, if a little tired. He carried a gun on his waist, and he wore a formal jacket. Octavia had told her that he was part of the council and had been instrumental in helping build the new alliance. 

Clarke stepped out of her friends’ embrace and slowly walked towards him, stopping about five feet in front of him. 

“Hello, Bellamy.” She stood straight and tall, looking him straight in the eye, despite wanting to look away. She realized with a start that she couldn’t read him anymore. His dark eyes betrayed nothing as they simply gazed at her. 

He stood their gazing at her. Noting the exhaustion in her face, the pain lurking in her eyes. She was finally here. He had barely restrained himself from going to Ton DC when he had heard that she was there, but Octavia had convinced him that Clarke needed time to adjust before inundating her. He had spent the last few days, angry and worried, often pacing in his room late at night railing at her in his thoughts. 

He had known she needed forgiveness, but she wouldn’t accept it from him, and truly it hadn’t been his to give, and he had known that, but he hadn’t been able to bear the thought of her leaving. He had kept himself occupied through the long winter months, working from dawn to dusk to ensure their people’s survival. And he had resented her for leaving him to bear the burden of their survival, for leaving him. 

He had pulled that lever with her, but he knew. He knew that what they had done hadn’t weighed as heavily on him as it had her. He had always been his sister’s keeper, her protector, her confidant. He had always known what he was capable of, and when the time had finally come, he hadn’t failed Octavia or his people. He had justified what he had done by the simple fact that Octavia was still alive and happy. They were all still alive. He flinched. Well, almost all of them. 

“Clarke.” He nodded his head, his arms crossed over his chest, his stance wide and intimidating. The voices around them had dulled and he couldn’t hear them anymore, only the pounding of his own heart as it beat against the ache in his chest. His eyes flickered briefly as his dark eyes tangled with blue. Blue, the color of the water and sky, and as he stared at her, refusing to be the first to give in, he felt himself fall into the depths of blue. Blue as deep as the water and wide as the sky, and it was all he could see and feel. And that last bitter bite in his chest let go and his arms fell to his sides and he let all the air in his lungs out in a loud whoosh, and when he inhaled again filling his lungs with blue, he smiled. 

The ground disappeared quickly beneath his sure strides, and he held his arms out to her and whispered, “Clarke.”

She felt the immeasurable release sweep through her body, and she fell that remaining step into his arms and clutched at his back. She could feel the reassuring thump of his heart underneath her cheek, and she felt a little bit more of that hollow in her chest fill. He was here, strong and steady. He was still Bellamy, and he didn’t hate her. She felt them crowd around her and pat her back, and she felt the tears drip down her eyes. They didn’t hate her. They still loved her and accepted her. Her. After everything she had done, she was still theirs, and they were still hers. 

“Welcome home, Clarke.” 

She jerked in Bellamy’s arms when she heard Kane’s voice. She looked up and stepped away from Bellamy, but still stood under the shelter of his arm. 

“Hello, Kane.” She nodded to him, glad to see him. He looked the same, if slightly thinner, but his smile was genuine as he walked over to her and pulled her into a quick hug. 

“It’s good to see you again, Clarke.” He stepped back and nodded to her friends and then gestured for her to precede him to the Ark. 

“Your mother is waiting for you.” 

She gulped, but nodded and turned back to her friends, slightly reassured at their smiles. Harper patted her on the arm. 

“Go, Clarke, come find us after you speak with your mum.” 

Clarke nodded, tears gleaming in her eyes as she gazed into their faces. She patted their hands that rested on her arm, not trusting herself to speak. She turned and fell into step with Kane as he spoke quietly to her waving his arms around and explaining the various changes that had been made. 

She could see the gardens and fields and huts that slowly grew outward from the Ark. It was obvious the Ark was still the center of the camp, but people no longer lived in the Ark. Hut doors were open to the sunlight, and clothing hung on lines. People toiled in the fields and some sat in circles mending nets and traps. They all looked up and most smiled or waved as she passed, and then returned to their work. Some simply stared, unflinchingly, and she forced herself to meet their gaze, before they too looked away.

They had survived winter and were steadily preparing for another winter. They were healthy and whole. They were thriving. She tried not to gasp when she heard the cry of a very young child, a child obviously born here on earth. But she still stumbled when she heard it and she glanced up at Kane who smiled at her.

“We are thriving here, Clarke. We are setting down roots and building a new world. You were right that we could survive here, but we had to adapt, to let go of the old ways, and embrace new ways.”

She felt the breath in her chest shudder, and she simply nodded, not really trusting herself to speak. She worked to calm herself as she stopped before the ark. She felt Kane touch her shoulder, steady and reassuring. 

“Go. She is in the Medical Wing. We expanded it, but you remember the way.” 

She nodded again and blindly reached out and grabbed his forearm, squeezing gently and then quickly releasing it as she stepped through the Ark doors.  
She slowly made her way down the corridors nodding to the people she met. Many reached out and patted her back or squeezed her arm, but kept going. They all knew there would be time to greet her later. 

She hesitated outside of the medical wing, noting the repaired doors and windows. She looked in and was surprised by how large it was, and the various pieces of equipment. She assumed some had been salvaged from the mountain. She tried not to think about it. 

She pushed through the doors and stood there gazing across the room at her mother’s back as she wrote something on a chalkboard. 

Clarke glanced around catching Nyko’s eye as he straightened from where he was showing a couple of students how to properly grind various plants into useable powders. His face betrayed nothing, but he slowly nodded to her, his eyes gleaming. He gestured for the students to stop what they were doing and to silently follow him out the doors.

He and the three students walked towards Clarke, the students whispering excitedly. She hugged Miller and kissed his cheek, pleased to see him. She watched her mother out of the corner of her eyes, noticing the stiffened back and that her arms had fallen to her sides.

She watched as Nyko, Miller and the others left the room, the door swishing shut behind them. She sighed and turned back towards her mother and slowly walked across the room to the table where Nyko had been working. 

She glanced at the plants idly, recognizing many of them. She fingered the pestle and mortars, the small vials of liquids and powders. Her eyes narrowed as she picked one up, reading the label. 

“Clarke.” 

************************************ 

She turned slowly, not entirely sure she was ready to face her mother, the silent accusations or the disappointment on her face. She balled her hands into fists and crossed her arms over her chest refusing to look away from the woman in front of her. 

She stood their defiantly, angrily. But all she wanted to do was throw herself into her mother’s arms just as she had when she was a small child. Her mother had been able to fix anything, whether it was a skinned knee, a broken toy, or a broken heart. Her mother had fixed everything with her warm arms, soft kisses, and quiet reassurances that she would always love Clarke no matter what. 

But now, Clarke ached. She ached with the pain of seeing her mother again again, of everything she had done for her people, of how much she had disappointed her mother.

She wanted to tell her mother that she finally understood, that she no longer blamed Abby for her father. How could she? When she had pulled that lever, killing all those children, killing Maya. Or even when she had killed Atom and Finn. She had done it for the greater good. Whatever the hell that meant anymore. But she had done it to ensure their survival. She had committed genocide, and if they ever wrote history books again, she was sure she deserved a place in it so posterity would know who she was, what she had done, how she had justified the slaughter. She would be a warning to future generations. It was fitting.

She opened her mouth to tell her, to tell her what she wasn’t sure, but instead a strangled sob burst from her chest and suddenly she was wrapped in the gentle warmth of her mother’s arms. She sagged against her mother, feeling her mother’s tears splash against her face, mixing with her own. 

“Oh, Clarke. My baby, my love. Clarke.” Abby held her tightly, rocking her broken child in her arms just as she had so many times over the years. But this wasn’t a skinned knee or a child’s fight that she could fix. She felt her heart shatter in her chest as her beloved child clung to her sobbing uncontrollably, the heaves wracking her thin frame.

Abby simply held on tighter, wishing she had the words, the power to wipe away her pain. She would gladly bear it for her. She had waited so long, toiled for so many months, praying to whatever gods were left on this bitter earth to return her child to her. And Abby wept, because she was finally here, in her arms. She wasn’t whole, but that was ok. Abby would save her. She would save her now, when she hadn’t been able to before. She would not fail this time. And so she clung to Clarke, imprinting the feel of her against her breast, the taste of the salt in her eyes, as she dropped desperate kisses on her face, as she muttered warm words over and over again. 

Clarke felt her legs shake and she started to fall in her mother’s arms, but Abby simply tightened her arms around her and slowly lowered them to the floor. She scooted back, resting her back against the table, and she drew her shaking daughter into her arms. She slipped her arm under Clarke’s legs and heaved, noting the slimmer but heavier frame. Her child wasn’t really a child anymore. She pulled Clarke into her lap and wrapped her arms tighter around her as she rocked her, whispering to her over and over again as she felt Clarke burrow her face into her neck. 

Clarke curled into her mother’s warm lap, burying her face in the crook of her neck just as she had done as a child. She felt the ache in her heart slowly ease as she realized that her mother didn’t hate her for what she had done. 

“I’m so-sorry, Mom,” she stuttered as she tried to choke back her tears. She sniffled and held on tighter, inhaling the scent of her mother’s skin. It smelled warm and fresh.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t be the good guy, I’m sorry I couldn’t be better.”

Abby’s breath hitched in her throat and she reached up and cupped the back of Clarke’s head as she turned and placed her lips against her forehead, her eyes fluttering closed as more tears dripped down her cheeks. 

She cradled Clarke in her arms, kissing her gently on the forehead, breathing in the dirt, trees, water, and blood that was etched so deeply in her child’s skin.  
“I love you, Clarke. I have always loved you, and I always will. There is nothing you could do that would make me love you less,” she whispered against her skin, “Not Finn, not Ton DC, not the Mountain, not leaving. Nothing, Clarke. Nothing.” 

So Abby sat there on the cold, sterile floor of the medical wing, cradling her broken child in her arms, the pain and joy coursing through her. This was all that mattered. 

“I’m sorry about Dad.” 

Abby felt a fresh wave of tears sting her eyes when she heard the small voice.

“I understand now. Why you did it. That you didn’t mean for it to happen like it did.” Clarke sniffed as more tears wound their way down her cheeks. She curled tighter in her mother’s arms, the initial flood of pain finally past. Her head pounded and her eyes ached, her skin itched, but the bottomless hollow in her chest wasn’t quite so bottomless or hollow anymore. 

“There is nothing for you to be sorry for, Clarke. That wasn’t your doing. That is on me and Jaha.” She sighed, feeling a fresh wave of pain at all that Clarke had suffered, “I wish you never had to know what it means to sacrifice all that you love and hold dear. I wish I could have saved you from this life.” 

“I love you, mom.” 

And Abby smiled through her tears and simply held her as Clarke’s breath slowly deepened, and her eyes fluttered shut. 

And Clarke slept. 

The shadows lengthened, and people put down their work and gathered around the fires to share in the evening meal, and still Clarke slept cradled in her mother’s arms. Safe at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of Clexa fics tend to treat Abby as something of a pariah, and while I agree that Abby isn't without her faults, and she has a lot to learn about this new world; I think at the heart of everything she does is her love for Clarke. I think Abby truly loves Clarke and vice versa, so I wanted to show that in this chapter. Hope you enjoyed it.


	11. The Ark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow...short chapter. Less than 2,000 words! Sorry! Maybe I will post another chapter tonight, if it isn't too long.

CHAPTER 10: Nightmares At The Ark

Clarke sat on one of the great logs around the largest fire, surrounded by many of her friends. She smiled across the fire at Abby and Kane who talked quietly together, with Abby looking up every few minutes and smiling at Clarke. 

Miller was deep in conversation with his father, telling him about the funny mishaps in the medical wing. Nyko calmly ate, saying little, observing much. 

Octavia had her arms thrown around Bellamy and was teasing him about Echo, who sat next to Bellamy watching it all in silent amusement. Bellamy grunted at Octavia and tickled her, her laughs filling the air. Lincoln smiled, happy that his love was happy. 

Harper and Monty sat next to Clarke talking animatedly about all the changes and Clarke nodded and smiled while she drank some of Monty’s special moonshine. She gazed at the adults and children, the few Trikru who sat with them as they ate and talked, laughed and laughed some more. They ate their fill, and she realized the ease filling her was contentment. She could be content here with her friends surrounded by laughter, her belly full, and a mug of moonshine in her hand.

Her eyes searched the faces, wondering where he was, why she didn’t see him. Maybe he wasn’t ready to see her. She couldn’t blame him. 

“Where is Jasper?”

She felt more than heard Monty’s strangled gasp. A hush fell over the group and no one would meet her eye at first. 

“Monty, where is Jasper?”

He looked away from her, and Harper wrapped an arm around his stiff shoulders and kissed his cheek. 

She glanced at Bellamy who finally met her eyes, and he slightly shook his head, his dark curls falling forward, hiding him slightly from her view. She narrowed her eyes and looked around her, the fear building in her chest. 

“Octavia? Lincoln? Where is he?!” She could feel the pressure inside her lungs, her eyes burning, her vision narrowing. 

She looked across the fire and met her mother’s eyes. Eyes filled with loss and compassion. 

And she knew. She stood abruptly, the cup of moonshine tumbling from her lap, her breath quickening. She had to get away. To get out. She turned and stepped over the log, quickly disappearing into the darkness, ignoring her mother’s calls. 

She walked swiftly, her eyes adjusting to the dark. She didn’t care where she was going, just that she was going. She finally came to halt a few minutes later, in a small clearing with a garden. She looked at the flowers, petals open and reaching for the moon. They glowed and bobbed their heads in the night breeze. She breathed deeply, trying to regain control. It was peaceful here, but her mind tumbled and jerked as she fought to ignore what her heart told her, while her mind tried to accept it. 

“He went out to collect some roots one day, and he never returned. They found him three days later in the snow. It was an accident.”

She stiffened at Monty’s weary voice. She listened as his footsteps crunched through the grass as he came to stand next to her. His hand found hers and gripped it. “He was broken for a long time, Clarke, but he eventually understood. He forgave you in the end, and he only wanted you to come back.”

She gripped Monty’s fingers, feeling the tears drip down her cheeks. Would she ever stop crying? Would it ever be over?

She nodded and smiled through her tears at Monty. She patted his chest lightly to reassure him, to wipe the concerned look off his face. 

“Ok. Ok, Monty.” 

She turned and smiled slightly through her tears at Bellamy who stood waiting for her. She walked over and grabbed his arm, and he led her back to the fire. 

“You lied.” 

Monty stiffened at the voice and turned as Octavia stepped out of the shadows. 

“And what good would it have done to tell the truth?” 

Octavia looked away, clenching her jaw. She knew he was right. Clarke had enough of the truth wearing her down, she didn’t need to feel Jasper’s death also. She nodded sharply.

“Ok.” 

They turned and walked back to the welcoming fire, and their laughing people. 

*****************************

She vomited again that night. Just as she had every night before. But this time the nightmares were different. This time it wasn’t the mountain she dreamed of, but of Jasper. His lifeless eyes staring at her from his frozen body. He simply stood there in the falling snow surrounded by skeleton trees, his clothes white and frozen, his skin a sickly shade of grey. 

The wind whistled through the clearing, moaning and groaning as it grew colder and colder. And every time she blinked, he seemed closer to her but he hadn’t moved. But she could hear him. She could hear his frozen words whisper through the snow and dark, “Maya. Maya. Maya.” 

She jerked awake when she felt the hands on her shoulders that quickly pulled her hair back as she leaned over the side of the bed and vomited. She gasped and heaved, tears clawing at her throat. Would this never end? Maybe she didn’t deserve for this to end. Maybe this was part of her punishment. 

She felt sure hands guide her back to lay on the bed, and she peered through the darkness, recognizing Octavia in relief. 

“Here, lie back.” 

She lay there and listened to Octavia quietly clean up the mess and then sit down on the bed next to her. She handed Clarke a cup of water and wiped her face with a wet cloth. She took the cup back after Clarke drank it. 

Octavia sat there in the dark, not knowing what to say, or if she should say anything. She had heard Clarke’s cries and barged through the door to see Clarke tossing and turning. She had barely missed being thrown up on, not that it mattered. She had felt the tears sting her eyes when Clarke had finally jerked awake, and Octavia had seen the depth of her terror. 

“Does this happen often?”

“Every night, but please don’t tell my mother. I don’t want her to know,” Clarke whispered, as she picked at the blanket covering her.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She didn’t think she could admit it in the light of day, her weakness, but here, shrouded in darkness listening to Octavia’s steady, even breathing; she didn’t feel so alone.

“There isn’t much to tell. I dream. I wake up. I vomit. Repeat,” she sighed.

“I think Lexa knows. The second night, I found a pail next to my bed.” A bitter laugh strangled past her lips at the thought of the commander knowing about her weakness, perhaps even rejoicing in it. 

“Shove over.” Octavia swung her legs up on the bed and pushed at Clarke to move, as she wiggled into the narrow space next to her. 

Clarke was surprised, but moved nevertheless, strangely relieved that Octavia wasn’t going to leave her in the dark. 

Octavia grabbed one of the blankets and rolled it behind her shoulders, so she was slightly reclined. She reached out and pulled Clarke towards her.

“Seriously, this would be easier, if you’d move your butt, Clarke,” she huffed in exasperation as she tried to maneuver the blonde’s limbs. 

Clarke let out a grunt as Octavia poked her and then laughed at Octavia’s continued grumbles. She rolled on to her side, and rested her head on Octavia’s shoulder, throwing an arm across her chest, as Octavia wrapped her arm around her shoulders. 

“Talk.”

Clarke sighed, “O, I appreciate it, but…”

“Shof op, Clarke. No excuses. Now talk to me. It’s me, Clarke. It’s O. Now talk to me.” 

And Clarke did. 

And unbeknownst to them both, Abby stood outside of her daughter’s room, a fist pushed into her mouth to keep her sobs at bay. 

A figure crouched on top of the Ark, hovering over the vent in Clarke’s room.

And miles away, a shadowed figure in a tent paced back and forth.

******************************

The sunbeams slipped through the vents in the early morning, capturing the speckles of dust in its tract. The beams played lightly over the relaxed faces below, chasing each other back and forth as the sun slowly rose. The camp stirred and woke, each person going about their day, but the two figures still slept wrapped up in each other. 

It was Octavia who first stirred, slightly irritated at the puffs of air hitting her face. She opened her eyes only to be met with a pert nose and golden hair obstructing her view. She chuckled and slowly withdrew her arm from under the sleeping blonde. She sat up in bed, stretching and looked up at the vent noticing the angle of the sun. She was surprised. It was well past breakfast. 

She looked down at her still slumbering friend, unsure if she should wake her. It was obvious she hadn’t slept much lately, and the blonde desperately needed to sleep and heal. She slowly slipped out of bed and made her way back to her room to change. She bumped into Lincoln in the hallway and smiled as his arms slipped around her to hold her. He kissed her forehead, and she snuggled into his chest, content and relaxed. 

“How is she?” 

She sighed and stepped back to look up at him, “I don’t know, Lincoln. She dreams…and well…they’re bad, Lincoln,” her voice shook slightly, “really bad.” 

He nodded sadly understanding the power of dreams, to guide, to build, to destroy. He is anxious and worried, hoping that Clarke’s dreams will not get the best of her…will not take the best of her and fracture it beyond repair. He pushes his anxiety aside and kisses Octavia slowly and firmly, hoping she understands when he can’t always find the words in either Trigedasleng or English. 

***************************************** 

Clarke finally stirs, waking slowly, confused and unsure where she is at first. She wakes up and stretches, noting the relative coolness of the room. She glances around, remembering that Octavia had been here during the night. She brushes the hair out of her face, glancing around the blank, cold walls. She shivers lightly and picks at the blanket.

Her fingers freeze when she realizes that her eyes don’t burn as much as they usually do. She actually feels relatively relaxed. A small smile flits across her lips as she realizes that she slept, really truly slept after Octavia had joined her in bed. She feels a gentle flutter in her heart and treasures it for a brief moment, recognizing it for what it is…hope. It is fleeting, and she doesn’t try to grasp it and hold it to her or cage it, knowing if she does, she will just strangle it with her own fear. No, she lets it slip away, believing it will return. It has to return, because she is so tired. 

She climbs out of bed, quickly washing and changing, her stomach growling. She knows it is long past breakfast, but she feels almost giddy, relieved that she had slept. She hurries down the corridor, smiling and nodding to those she meets. She bursts out of the Ark doors, and she wants to laugh, but she doesn’t. She swallows it back down, pushing it behind her teeth. She feels it bubble inside her chest, slam against her ribs, and she smiles. She smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this didn't feel too much like filler, but I want to show that Clarke is having to face her friends and family; and if they can offer her love, maybe she can forgive herself.


	12. Awakening

CHAPTER 11: Awakening

Clarke made her way slowly to the fields stretching out past the gates of the ark. She waved to Monty as he jogged over to her waving animatedly. She can’t help but wave back, basking in his joy. 

“Hey, Clarke!” He swoops in and gives her a hug. He can’t contain his joy at seeing his friend, more importantly noticing that her eyes aren’t as red and strained. She seems slightly more relaxed. 

She laughs and pats him on the back, “Hi, Monty. I was told I would find you here in the fields.” 

He grabs her arm and starts gently pulling her towards the nearest field. It is small, more of a garden really, but he’s happy to show her. He is proud of the work they have done, proud that he will help feed his people this winter. 

“Come. You have to see this. It’s amazing, Clarke. The clans have so many different vegetables and crops that they grow. They gave us seeds and plants. We will feed ourselves this winter.” He beams at her and releases her arm as opens the gate to the fence that has been strung up around the plot. She notices that it is made out of both wire and interwoven branches. It’s the perfect combination, mix of old world and new world tech. She shakes her head a little, the smile gracing her features. She steps through the gate and kneels down next to Monty, not caring about the dirt, as he tenderly cups the leaves of a young plant. 

“This is a Squota plant, Clarke. It is similar to the potatoes, and gourd vegetables that once grew on earth, but bigger and hardier. Remember how we studied them in Earth Class?” He doesn’t wait for her response as he eagerly explains how this plant will be the basis of their nutrition this winter. 

She smiles as she listens to him ramble on, nodding when appropriate. His voice lulls her, soothes her. She glances around, enjoying the light spilling through the tall trees, the breeze whispering through the leaves of the young plants. She can hear birds trilling and water slapping down the sides of the water wheel. She can hear the hopes and dreams of her people burrowing down in the rich earth taking root. The time for survival is past, now it is time to live, to thrive. 

“…so that is what we do with those little nasty fish we catch.” 

She jerks in surprise, realizing she has missed most of what he said. “I’m sorry, Monty, what about the fish?”

He smiles in amusement. “I was telling you about how we fertilize the plants. Which is horribly exciting to you, I know,” he teases gently and nudges her in the shoulder.

She laughs, “Ok, you use fish to fertilize the plants? How did you figure out how to do that?”

“The Commander’s farmers. They showed us how to dig deep holes for the plants and line the holes with these small fish. We can’t eat the fish, but they make excellent fertilizer once they start to rot in the ground.” 

Of course. Lexa’s farmers. Somehow she had already known the answer to her question, before she had even fully articulated it. She shuffled her feet slightly, trying to get more comfortable. Her knees were starting to protest the continued squatting position. She looked down at the dark earth, and ran her fingers through it, letting the cool richness sift through her fingers. She squeezed a handful in her hand, letting it squeeze through her fingers, and then she dropped the misshapen ball at her feet. 

Monty glanced over at her, watching her squeeze the earth, her fingers whitening around the clump. He wasn’t sure she really wanted to hear the stories. Octavia had told him that she and Raven had told Clarke some of what had happened after she had left. 

He turned slightly, trying to see her profile, but it was hidden by a curtain of messy gold. He turned away and looked up at the blue of the sky, noting the wispy clouds floating by. He didn’t look at her when he started to speak. 

“She came back a few weeks after you had left. I thought the guards were going to kill her at first. But she just sat there on her huge war horse. No face paint, which O said was unusual. It was the first time I’d ever seen her,” he muttered quietly.

He continued quietly, “She just sat there looking at us. Didn’t say a damn word. She had a whole bunch of warriors behind her. No one knew what to do. We didn’t know if she had come to kill or us or what, but I don’t think anyone expected what happened next.” He laughed under his breath remembering the shock on the guards’ faces, when she had reached behind her and grabbed a bundle wrapped in furs and thrown it to the ground in front of the guards. 

“It was food and clothing wrapped in furs. Each of her warriors threw a bundle on the ground, never saying a single word, and then they just left. Turned their horses and rode away. There must have been thirty warriors.”

“Why?” She whispered, her voice cracking.

“She never said,” He turned to her, met her confused eyes, “your mother asked her, but as far as I know, she never told her why.” He stood, stretching his arms to the sky, waggling his fingers. He let them fall to his sides, and then reached a hand down to help her stand. 

“It was just the beginning. Winter came quickly. We were so unprepared,” he sighed and kicked at a dirt clod, “We were so unprepared, Clarke. None of us could have imagined what winter on earth was like. You know, they call it Winter’s Breath? It’s true, the very air seems to freeze. It’s suffocating, and the cold… The never ending cold, Clarke. Our very muscles and bones burned with it. People fell ill. We were freezing. No wood, not enough warm furs and clothing, and then people started to die. More would have died. Perhaps all of us, if it hadn’t been for her.” 

She looked down at her hand, clasped in his calloused palm. His hands had once been soft, but now they were hard, strong. They weren’t a boy’s hands, but a man’s who had fought and killed, and now who tilled the soil so his people could live and thrive. 

She squeezed his hand briefly and looked up into his kind eyes. He patted her hand and smiled. He had said enough. 

“Why don’t you take a walk through the gardens? Check out our new irrigation system.” 

She nodded her head and turned and made her way down towards the tree line, following the paths running between the carefully laid out gardens. 

He rested his hands on his hips, glancing around at the new life springing up around him. He gazed at the golden halo bobbing along and smiled. 

“Welcome home, Clarke,” he murmured. 

********************************** 

She spent the next couple of days with her mother in the medical wing, helping roll bandages, and grind plants into powders. She worked with Monty in the gardens, digging holes and planting. She sat under the trees with Harper and the children, listening to their curious chatter as Harper and Echo taught them both English and Trigedasleng. She spent her evenings around the fire drinking moonshine with her friends laughing and playing silly games that didn’t matter. 

And each night was the same as the night before. She tossed and turned on her narrow bunk, crying out until she felt Octavia slip into the space beside her, and smooth her hair back from her sweaty face. Sometimes Octavia sang to her and sometimes she told her stories of Greek gods and lightning and chariots, the same stories Bellamy used to whisper to Octavia between the cracks of the floor where she lay hidden. 

But she no longer vomited. 

And the shadow lay under the stars on top of the Ark next to the vent listening to the soft voices below. She gazed at the silver studded night sky, and wondered what it was like to drift among the darkness, to dance between the stars. 

And each night a figure continued to pace in a tent, restless and worried, unable to sleep. 

********************************** 

“Heda?”

She glanced up from where she stood in front of her war table, her fingers idly caressing the small wooden, painted doll. She bit back her sigh and wrapped her fingers around the doll, hiding it in her fist. 

“What?” She snapped as she flicked her eyes at Malachi and then looked back at the table, studiously ignoring him. She tried not to smirk when she heard his hard swallow.

He steadied his breathing and gripped his spear tighter.

“Well, Malachi? What do you want? I don’t have all day,” she snapped at him. He cursed Indra under his breath. She outranked him, and she had already suffered the Heda’s wrath, so here he was now. 

“Mordecai sent word.”

She whirled quickly, trying to keep the eagerness off her face. She visibly tried to calm herself before nonchalantly replying, “What does she report?”

“She no longer vomits. Mordecai says her mother has been making her drink something every day. Mordecai says it was something called ulcers.”

“Ulcers?” She glanced at him arching an eyebrow. 

“I’m not sure, Heda. Mordecai says that it is sores in her stomach.”

“Sores?!” Lexa bit out, unable to keep the concern out of her voice. She clenched her fists as Malachi stuttered in surprise. She gestured for him to continue trying to keep her annoyance at bay. 

“Yes,” he whispered, “Mordecai overheard Abby say that it is painful and caused by stress.” 

“Stress,” murmured the brunette as she turned back to the table, fisting her hands on top and bearing her weight forward. She relished the ache in her knuckles. 

“Anything else? What about the nightmares?”

He stared at the hunched shoulders, the anger in her posture. He groaned to himself, knowing that what he was going to say next wouldn’t be well received. “She still has the dreams, but…” his voice trailed off, unsure how to continue, not wanting to continue. 

“But…?” 

He flinched at the warning in her voice. He sighed and mumbled quickly, “But her nightmares stop when Octavia goes to her room.” He closed his eyes and squinted at her stiff figure, worried about the oncoming explosion. 

“Octavia?” She hissed, feeling the anger curl in her belly. She straightened, taking deep breaths, pushing the anger back. It wouldn’t do to lose her temper in front of Malachi. She looked up at him, and tried not to bark at him, when she noticed his face tightly screwed up, as if he were bracing himself for her backlash. 

She stalked towards him slowly, smirking as he backed up a step trying to maintain distance. “And what exactly does Octavia do in her room?” She cooed at him, an edge shivering through her voice. 

“H-Heda, I’m just the messenger,” he stuttered as he pulled back slightly, afraid of what she would do if he didn’t stand his ground, but wanting to be anywhere but in her tent at this moment. 

“Speak true, Malachi, you have nothing to fear from me.” She flipped her hand at him and growled, “And stop flinching! Open your damn eyes!” 

His eyes shot open, and he barely restrained his flinch. He took a deep breath, “She sleeps with her.” He braced himself again. 

“Sleeps with her?!” roared the brunette as she felt the fury roar through her veins. She stomped closer to Malachi, “What the fuck do you mean she sleeps with her?” It briefly occurred to her that she had finally figured out the correct meaning of the word. She would have to ask Octavia to be sure. After she ripped her limb from limb and killed her slowly. Then she would do it all over again. Then she would ask her. Maybe. Or she would just kill her again. 

“Sleep, Heda! Sleep!” He stumbled over his words as he quickly tried to reassure the angry woman, “I mean she only sleeps with her.” He winced as she saw the absolute fury flashing in her eyes. He was only making this worse. “She comforts her, sings to her, tells her stories until she falls asleep.” 

He swallowed hard. “She sleeps, Heda. She doesn’t dream or cry out as much when Octavia is with her. Sleep, Heda. That’s is.” 

She swallows past the jagged words stuck in her throat, and she doesn’t trust herself to speak. She simply waves him away, and turns back to her throne when she hears him hurry out her tent. She feels the anger fade away to be replaced by a dull ache that sits in her chest. It slithers between her ribs and then sinks deep into her bones. 

She hesitates in front of her throne and instead pushes back the flap to the back room where she sleeps. She sits down on the bed and leans forward, resting her arms on her knees. She is tired. Worn down. She feels drained and empty. She sighs. She misses Clarke. But she has been missing her for months now, since she left her at the mountain.

She sighs and falls back on her bed, closing her burning eyes. She hasn’t been sleeping well. She is up at all hours of the night, pacing and worrying about the stubborn, angry blonde. She tries not to think too much about how much she misses her. How when she does dream, she dreams of her, of leaving her at the mountain, dreams of Clarke’s never-ending rage. She dreams of the wet blue of her eyes, the tang of her blood on her tongue. She dreams of the salty taste of her skin, of how her lips felt against hers all those long months ago.

She groans and throws an arm across her face. She tries not to think about Octavia in bed with Clarke. She isn’t a fool, she knows Octavia loves Lincoln and would not betray him in such a manner. But still it hurts, the knowledge that it is Octavia who comforts Clarke at night and not her, it bites at her, slashes at her flesh, and she wants to stomp and howl in pain. But she is Heda, and she can’t afford to show weakness. 

But she is weak. Weak for Clarke. If she were stronger, she would kill Clarke. Clarke is dangerous in her pain and rage, and as Heda, she can’t afford for Clarke to destroy the alliance between the Trikru and Skaikru and the alliance with the coalition. But she can’t do it. She can’t bring herself to harm Clarke more than she already has. So she turns on her side and curls her legs up to her chest and tucks her fists under her chin, and she allows herself one tear, and then two, and then three, but no more. She draws in a shaky breath, and curls tighter within herself. She pushes the tears back behind her teeth and down her throat to swim in her lungs. Her chest hurts. She feels the truth burn in her bones, and they ache with it. She loves Clarke.

*************************************

She returns to Ton DC despite her mother’s pleas to stay longer, but before she leaves, she holds her mother tight and promises to return in a couple of weeks. 

The truth is, she is happy to return to Ton DC. Camp Jaha isn’t home. It never really was, just as the Ark was never really home. It always felt more like a stopping station, a pause in her journey home. But home? She isn’t really sure where it is, or even what it is. Sometimes she thinks home could be Ton DC or at least with the Trikru. She shakes her head hard before she allows herself to continue the thought. She isn’t ready to think about what else or who else home could be. 

She can’t help but smile a bit when she steps inside her tent at Ton DC. She slings her satchel to the bed and flings herself down next to it. Truth is, while she is glad to have left Camp Jaha, she is worried. She knows she can’t expect Octavia to continue to come to her, to help her through the long nights. Besides, she and Lincoln are headed out to one of the outposts with Indra later today. Octavia had told her on the way back to Ton DC. She had looked worried when she told Clarke, and Clarke was quick to assure her that she would be fine, that Octavia didn’t need to worry about her. But she is worried. They are both worried. 

But Clarke knows she needs to stand on her feet. She can’t rely on anyone else. She has to slay her own demons, and find her own peace, just as her friends have done. They’ve built a new life for themselves, and she is envious. She wants what Bellamy and Monty and Raven and Octavia have: hard, honest work; loyal friends; and maybe…maybe… someone to love. 

She sighs and turns to empty her satchel, when the bright colors catch her eye. Her hands still, hovering over her satchel as she turns slowly and looks. She stares for a moment and then hesitantly reaches out one hand and gently cups the bright flowers in the chipped glass jar. They must be the first blossoms after the Breath of Winter. Her fingers shake as she gently caresses the purple and gold petals. She lets her hand drop. She knows who put them there. She imagines her out in the clearings picking the flowers and then sneaking in to her tent to put them here next to her bed. 

She shakes her head and turns back to her satchel, a grim smile on her face, and she can’t stop her eyes from flickering back to the flowers, but her smile wanes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the little bit with Lexa. I had fun writing the scene. I've always pictured Lexa with a jealous streak. 
> 
> I know. I know, no Clexa yet. It's coming! I had to show Clarke, through her friends eyes, that there is more to the Lexa than the Heda who left her at the mountain. 
> 
> Stay with me! Pretty please!


	13. Let Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there is a little Princess Mechanic/Craven in here. But again this is a Clexa fic. After originally writing it, I tried to change it to be a scene between Clarke and Lexa, and it just didn't fit. I've re-written and added to this scene so much, and I'm still not 100% satisfied, but I hope you like it.
> 
> R, please note the correct use of "wandered" in the first sentence and "wondering" in one of the last chapters. Oh, and I included some snot, just for you. You're welcome.

CHAPTER 12: Let Go

Clarke wandered through the camp looking for Raven. She needed a distraction from the pain in her head. She had looked for Peregrine, but was told that she was away at Polis. And it was time to speak with Raven anyway. She had been avoiding her, although she pretended that she hadn’t been. She figured the mechanic hadn’t been so easily fooled.

She found her hunched over a broken walkie talkie in her tent, and she couldn’t help but smile at the muttered curses that tumbled out of the brunette’s mouth.

“Knock, Knock.” She smiled as she stepped into the hut as Raven looked up quickly and smiled at her. 

“Hi, Clarke, come in.” Raven spun around on her stool and eased off it wincing as her legs hit the floor. She fumbled with the brace, tightening it and smiled when she felt the blonde’s hand cupping her elbow. 

“No worries, Clarke. I’ve got it.” She straightened and tapped Clarke on the arm as she limped past her and grabbed a jug of water and two mugs. She started to pour the water into the mugs and froze when she heard the blonde’s quiet voice tremble in the space between them. 

“Does it hurt?” 

She sighed quietly and finished pouring the water and set the jug down. She kept her back to the blonde, unsure how to answer her. She knew Clarke wasn’t asking about her bum leg, but the other leg, the leg they had drilled into to extract her marrow. 

“Yes. Sometimes, but not as often or as much as it used to hurt.” 

She turned back around and held the mug out to Clarke. She limped over to the bed and sat down patting the space next to her. 

Clarke held the mug in her hand, ignoring the smooth feel of the clay underneath her fingers. She stared at Raven, not seeing her, not hearing her. She felt the air leave her lungs in a whoosh and her heart pound in her ears. She wished it was louder, she wished it would drown out Raven’s screams. But it didn’t. She felt her skin itch and burn, and she imagined it was melting off of her flesh and sinew as she watched them all burn and writhe gasping the toxic air. 

The stench of broken, bloody skin and released bowels filled her nostrils, and she gagged as the mug slipped from between her fingers. She didn’t feel it slip or hear it fall with a dull thud as it hit the dirt floor and bounced. 

“Clarke! Clarke!” Raven grabbed the blonde’s arms and shook her, frightened by the glazed, rolling eyes. The blonde’s breaths were coming in heaving spurts, and Raven knew she didn’t hear or even see her. 

Raven felt the fear swell in her chest, and she shook Clarke harder, “Clarke!” She reached up and slapped her across the face, feeling the instant relief when the blonde’s eyes finally stopped rolling and she focused on Raven. 

Raven caught her as she sagged against the mechanic, and Raven cursed as she stumbled under the weight of the blonde. She opened her mouth to yell for help, as she stumbled again as she frantically tried to hold the blonde up, and then she heard the door to her hut fling open. 

She gaped at the tall warrior who stepped in quickly and scooped up the blonde and strode over to the bed gently laying her on top of it. The woman unclipped the pauldron from across the blonde’s chest and carefully set it aside.

She gestured to the mechanic, “Water.” 

Raven grabbed a cloth and hurriedly wet it and handed it to the woman. She had seen her around the camp before training with the other warriors. Raven didn’t think she spoke much, but she seemed to be well respected and around their age. She thought perhaps she had seen her in the company of Monroe before, but she couldn’t remember.

The woman wiped Clarke’s face with the cool cloth and then gently swiped it down her neck and across her chest, careful to avoid the hint of cleavage. Heda knew all, and she didn’t want to risk her wrath by touching what Heda wanted to be hers.

She eyed the blonde carefully, relaxing slightly when the blonde’s breathing started to deepen and steady. Clarke’s eyes started to flutter, and the woman stood up and handed the cloth to Raven. 

“She will be fine,” and with that the woman quickly stepped out of the hut ignoring Raven’s surprised stare that tracked her all the way to the door. Raven quickly glanced back to the blonde when she heard her stir.

“Raven?”

“Shhhhh, Clarke. It’s ok, just rest. Take a deep breath.” Raven helped the blonde sit up and pressed the cool cloth to the back of her neck. Clarke coughed and looked down into her lap, refusing to meet the mechanic’s eyes. 

“It’s ok, Clarke. You’re safe.” Raven soothed, her heart aching for her friend. She could only imagine the pain and guilt that the blonde sheltered within her breast. 

“No,” she whispered, “it isn’t ok, Raven, it will never be ok.” She grit her teeth and balled her hands into fists feeling her ragged fingernails bite into her palms. She flinched when she felt Raven’s hands hover over her own and then delicately rest against her fists. 

She would not cry, she could not cry. Crying was weakness, and she was so tired of being weak. She was just so tired. She needed to be strong, to do what needed to be done. She bit back the sobs in her chest and clenched her fists even tighter, relishing the feel of the blood seeping through the cuts she had inflicted upon her own palms. 

Raven felt her heart clench inside her chest as she felt the balled flesh tighten impossibly harder against her palms. She didn’t know what to say, what she could say to drive out the pain burrowing in to the depths and lines of the blonde’s flesh and bone. So instead, she didn’t say anything. Just wrapped her fingers around the hot, clenched fists of her friend. 

The blonde let out a harsh sob, when she felt the slim fingers of her friend slide over her fists and circle the tender skin of her wrists, cupping the bottom of her fists in her gentle palms. She let out another sob as she felt warm, soft lips gently press against her burning fists. 

Raven stayed their hunched over Clarke’s hands, her lips pressing delicately into the fingered-stones in her palms. She simply waited hearing the choked sobs of the blonde. She didn’t wince when she felt the tears drip into her hair, and then she felt Clarke’s forehead come to rest on the back of her head. She tightened her spine at the weight of Clarke on her head, and still she pressed soft kisses to the fists. 

Clarke could no longer hold back the tears that tore from her chest in great jagged gasps searing her from the inside out. She choked, “I’m sorry, Raven, so fucking sorry about Finn. I couldn’t let them torture him, I couldn’t!” She heaved, choking back the vomit in her mouth as she stuttered, “I-I know what I did. What I did to them all, to you. They tortured you, and I almost let them!” 

She felt the snot slowly drip across her top lip, but she didn’t care as the sobs shattered throughout her body, and she groaned between her sobs, “I burned them all, for you and for Jasper, and for Bellamy, and for my mum,” she coughed and choked as she forced the words out, “for me.” 

“I told you I would pick you first, and instead I left you! I left you all! I just couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t bear you to see me, after what I had done.”

She gasped and cried, but her fists slowly unclenched under the tender warmth of Raven’s lips. She flexed her whitened fingers and felt Raven slowly straighten and slide her hands up her arms and around her shoulders guiding her gently in to her body, clasping her and holding her. 

Raven cradled Clarke in her arms and rocked her as she felt her own tears burn down her cheeks. She cried for Finn, the boy they had both loved; she cried for Fox and for Maya, and for Jasper. She cried for herself, and she cried for Clarke, and all that they had lost. And at last when her tears had finally dried and she felt the last heaves from the blonde, she sat back and pushed the blonde back slightly. She smiled at her through her drying tears and reached up and wiped the sleeves of her shirt across the blonde’s face, wiping up the tears. 

“It’s ok, Clarke.” Raven took a deep breath, “I was angry with you after you left. I felt so alone, so useless, and I couldn’t sleep, but even while I was mad at you, I kind of understood why you left. It was a long time before I could look at Wick. He had seen me at my worst, and I couldn’t face him. But he didn’t give up on me. And I got over being mad, Clarke. Life is too hard, too short here on the ground to be angry.” 

Raven pushed the hair back from Clarke’s sticky face, and kissed her forehead, letting her lips linger for a moment, “I won’t give up on you, Clarke. And it’s ok about Finn. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you can let him go now. You did the right thing. You saved him, Clarke, you saved him. You saved him from the agony of what was to come. I know,” she laughed bitterly for a moment, “I know exactly what they would have done to him, how they would have cut him, bled him. Lincoln was right. They would have taken his hands and his eyes, his tongue while he screamed,” she choked back a sob, “but you saved him from that. Thank you. Thank you,” she whispered as she pressed her open lips to Clarke’s cheek, “thank you for saving him. For saving us all.”

“You, Clarke. You saved us all,” she continued to whisper, “Your mother was right, Clarke, there are no good guys here. Not anymore. Maybe there never was,” She shrugged, “All that is left is just us trying to do what we think is best, trying to survive. There is just different shades of gray and of fucked up, but we can live with that. We can,” implored the brunette, “we can and we will. It’s time to let it go.” Her voice shook, “what matters is what we do now. This is our chance to build something new. Something better than the world that burned before.” 

Raven tightened her arms around Clarke, willing her to hear her, to listen to her. She felt the blonde’s heart beat start to steady, and her tears slowly dry on her cheek. “You can do this, Clarke, we can do this. The Skaikru and Trikru are going to build a better world, we deserve this, and our children and our children’s children deserve it. You deserve this, Clarke.” Her voice trailed off and she whispered, “And the Commander deserves it.” She felt a brief pang for a moment, thinking of what could have been between her and Clarke. From the moment they had met, despite Finn, they had been satellites draw into orbit around each other, almost crashing and burning into each other. But then Lexa had happened. 

So instead, she let go.

She rubbed Clarke’s shoulder one last time and then stood up and limped over to get more water. 

Clarke looked down at her palms noting the shallow cuts. She dropped her head into her palms, feeling the drops of blood slick and stain her skin under her eyes. She heaved once, twice and slowly the guttural sobs finally trailed off, and she was simply left empty. Hollow. 

She finally looked up and grabbed the still damp cloth and wiped it over her palms, no longer wincing at the broken blisters and cut skin. She sighed and shook her head, feeling light headed and woozy. She wiped her nose on her sleeve, not particularly caring about the state of her jacket anymore. 

She looked up at the mechanic. She didn’t deserve Raven’s love and friendship, her forgiveness and acceptance, but she was going to greedily accept it. She stood and walked over to the mechanic slipping her arm around her and kissing her on the temple. She breathed in deeply, feeling the wretched hollow in her chest fill a little. Maybe this was peace. Maybe peace was accepting all the shades of awful and simply learning to live with it. 

“Thank you,” she whispered as she kissed her temple again and then stepped back and quickly walked out the door. 

********************************** 

Raven sighed quietly, shaking her head and limped back to her table. She climbed on the stool and picked up the walkie talkie and then set it down again, her fingers fiddled with the wires. Her slim shoulders slumped and she felt the pain burn in her chest and her vision blur. 

“Hey, beautiful.”

She jerked up and turned at the soft words, and her eyes lit up as she shrugged, trying to downplay her instant relief when she took in his tall form. 

“Hey, yourself.” 

He walked over and stood next to her and then slid an arm around her shoulders, gently pulling her in to his chest. She resisted at first, as always, and he smiled. It was their ritual; Raven pretending she didn’t want or need him as much as she did, and he pretending that he didn’t see right through her. 

“It will be ok, Rae. It will.”

She leaned in to his solid chest, finally slipping an arm around his waist, content to let him hold her for a few minutes. Her heart still ached when she thought of Finn, but this…Wick? The Trikru? This was her home, this was her future. 

She turned her head in to his chest and sniffled and then casually wiped her nose on his shirt and looked up into amused eyes. 

“Really, Rae? Really?” He laughed and leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. 

“Eh. That’s what you get, Wick.” She turned back to her table smiling slightly, fumbling with the walkie talkie again. She hesitated, her shoulders tensing. 

“Do you really think so?” 

He slung his bag on the table and then hesitated at the small voice and eyed Raven’s back

He felt the familiar ache in his chest when he looked at her, but he spoke confidently, “Yes. This is Clarke we are talking about. She will find her way home, her way back to us.” He smiled when the slim shoulders in front of him slumped in relief, and he prayed he hadn’t just lied to her.

****************************** 

Lexa stood near the tree line outside of Raven’s hut. She watched as Clarke came out of the hut. She stumbled slightly, her shoulders slumped and the hair hiding most of her face. Lexa’s eyes narrowed. 

Lexa had arrived only a moment before. She had been watching her warriors train, but had felt uneasy and uncomfortable. She had felt a dull ache in her chest, and her mind had churned trying to place her unease. But all she could focus on was Clarke. She knew that Clarke had gone to visit Raven. She always knew where Clarke was, so she left her warriors training and made her way to Raven’s hut. 

She hadn’t seen the blonde long enough to speak with her after her return, and she was anxious to do so, but still hesitant. She didn’t know how to approach her, didn’t know how to speak to her. She wanted to tell her how she felt, how she worried about Clarke, how she dreamed about her, but she had a feeling it would only earn her another knife to the ribs. 

So she watched as Clarke shambled off towards the river, and Lexa crept along the tree line staying out of sight until Clarke finally plopped herself down on a rock in the sun, and then buried her face in her upturned knees. 

Lexa stood there, not making a sound, simply watching her heart aching for the upset blonde. She kept a silent vigil, but knew she wasn’t the only one. 

“Come out, Mordecai.” 

She hummed quietly when the young, brown-skinned woman stepped out from behind a tree twenty feet away. She waited for the warrior to amble over to her watching her out of the corner of her eye. She noted the strong, lithe body as it practically floated across the forest floor. She had chosen well. Mordecai left not a trace behind her as she moved. 

“Heda.” Mordecai dipped her head in deference to the Heda as she stood next to her, both of them watching the Skai Prisa. She hadn’t been overly surprised that Heda had known she was there. There was no greater warrior or commander than Heda. 

Mordecai clasped her hands behind her back, standing straight and tall next to Heda. She was taller than her by a couple of inches, and her long dark hair was bound in a single braid and threaded with leather strings, unlike Heda’s hair that had intricate braids woven throughout her curls. Twin short blades were tied to her back in an X, and she was a master at fighting with a blade in each hand. 

“How is she, Mordecai?”

“She is…troubled, Heda. Still angry. She thinks she seeks vengeance.”

“Thinks?” 

“Yes, thinks. She thinks she has to seek vengeance, because this is what she has told herself. But perhaps, she is tired. Tired of vengeance.”

Lexa focused her gaze on the blonde, wondering if she was finally ready to stop hating her. 

“I fear she still hates me, Mordecai.”

“Hates you, Heda?” Mordecai let a small smile flit across her lips, “no, Heda. She hates that she no longer hates you, that she never really hated you. She hates that she chose the same as you when she pulled that lever. She hates that she understands now.”

Lexa felt the brief stirring of hope, and instead of crushing it, she let it grow and flicker through her chest. 

“Do you…do you think…” Lexa trailed off, uncomfortable at the soft pleading in her voice. It was weakness, and weakness would get her people killed. Would get her killed. Would get Clarke killed. But it was already too late.

“Sha, Heda. Sha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Not gonna lie, this chapter was one of my favorite scenes, it was one of the first I wrote; and I loved the imagery of Raven kissing Clarke's fists. 
> 
> So next chapter is a doozy. Everything comes to a head.


	14. The Doozy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive the crap chapter name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finished this story today, except for some minor editing that still needs to be done. Looks like 20 chapters, unless I add a little more. So I decided to post an extra chapter. Hope you enjoy.

CHAPTER 13: The Doozy

It was the scream that jolted her awake. It pierced the night and hovered over the camp like a shroud, suffocating and dark. She barely remembered to grab her sword before she burst out of her tent and ran straight for the Skai Prisa’s tent. She barked orders at her nearest warriors and guards who stumbled out of their tents in all stages of undress, bleary-eyed but with their weapons at the ready. 

“Form up! Ring the tent!” She yelled at her guards as she tightened her grip on her sword. She almost crashed into Indra who was making her way towards her. She barely noticed the hastily tied on breastplate Indra wore over bare skin. She knew she didn’t look much better in shorts and a tank top, no boots on, her hair wild. 

“Indra, send out the patrols! And send Mordecai to me. Hurry!” She ordered, relieved as Indra immediately started barking orders at the assembled warriors to spread out in the woods. She looked quickly for Octavia, and then remembered that she was out at one of the outposts with Lincoln and five others. She wondered briefly if she should send for her. 

She heard a wail come from the tent and groaning followed by loud thumps. She quickly threw the flaps open and strode in her sword at the ready. She ground to a halt as she looked at the thrashing blonde on the bed. She felt Ryder almost bump into her and she quickly ordered him out, commanding him to guard the entrance and to push the guard ring further out. 

She slowly lowered her sword and cautiously approached the bed. She felt the dread pool in her stomach knowing that this was an enemy she could not fight. She dropped the sword and slipped to her knees next to the bed and slowly reached out to the blonde, gently resting her hands on her left arm. 

“No…no, stop! Please…Please.”

Lexa ground her teeth as she listened to the broken words tumble from the blonde. She squeezed her left arm gently, “Clarke. Clarke,” she whispered. 

Lexa barely ducked the flailing arm, catching it in both hands and pushing it back to the bed, only for the dreaming blonde to cry out again and thrash harder against the hands now trying to calm her. 

“No! No! Please…don’t make me do this!” The blonde groaned and cried out as she felt their hands on her, clutching at her, grasping at her. They were pulling her down and under, and she felt them grab at her limbs as she tried to push them off, but instead their weight tumbled on to her chest, and she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t scream out anymore. She knew no one would hear her anyway over the moans of the dead. She felt her hands and arms grow slick with their blood and oozing flesh. She tried to fling the rotting flesh from her skin, but it clung to her, and she felt it burn her. 

She tried to look up, to see through the writhing mass of torn and broken limbs, tried to see the sky. Tried to see her. She pushed and screamed, fighting her way up, tossing the small bodies off of her, and she finally broke free. She stumbled away from the horde of the dead, falling to the ground the blood slicking down her arms to pool around her fingers. She could hear their groaning and cries. 

They mocked her, and whispered to her as they shambled to their feet, turning as one. One monster. She could hear that damn baby crying again, and when she looked behind her, she saw the baby with the ruptured skin and oozing blisters. Her flesh was dripping off her bones. She was so tiny, so grotesque. So still in her silent accusation as she simply now looked at Clarke. At least she thought it was a she. She couldn’t tell beyond the raw flesh of its face. It didn’t matter. It was so tiny. And she scrambled to her feet, trying to outrun the small form, but she couldn’t. She never could outrun her. 

She limped forward and finally saw her. Standing tall and silent. The blood splashed across her face and neck, the kohl rimming her eyes. Clarke reached out towards her, unable to outrun the dead. She knew what was coming next. And she felt the small hand grasp her ankle and she screamed. 

She watched in horror as she turned away from her. Leaving her. Again. Always fucking leaving her to face the dead alone. She reached out for her, begging her, even as the hands grasped her legs and pulled her back. She clawed at the ground, digging her fingers in to the hard earth. She screamed as she felt the bones splinter in her fingers as she fought the moaning, laughing dead. She looked up only to see the fading figure, and she heard her words echoing, “I’m sorry, Clarke. May we meet again.” 

“No! No, please don’t leave me!” She felt the gaunt hands grasping at her shoulders and back, their fetid breath washing in her face as they chuckled and whispered to her, “Innocent. Innocent.” 

She wailed one last time calling for her, as she felt the tiny hands wrap around her throat, and she craned her neck to meet the hollow, raw face inches from her own, the tiny, soft voice echoed in her ear “She did this. She made you do this.”

And the light began to fade as she felt the pressure on her neck tighten, and then her lungs exploded in her chest. 

****************************

She woke with a wrenching cry, throwing herself up and out of the bed, only to crash into a lean body. She flung out her arms barely registering the grunt as her hands connected with warm flesh. She felt the hands grasping at her, arms slipping around her to hold her tight. She felt the panic bloom in her chest and spill out of her in heaving, wrenching gasps as tears poured down her face. 

“Clarke! Clarke! It’s ok, Clarke. You’re safe. Shhhhhh, Clarke.” Lexa pulled the heaving blonde into her arms tucking her face into hers, whispering in her ear. She rocked her and felt the body slowly begin to relax as the blonde fully awakened. 

Clarke heard the soft whispers in her ear and finally her eyes focused on the face inches from her own. She saw the high cheekbones, forest green eyes filled with such worry. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment and her head dropped down to the strong shoulder. She felt the warm hands draw random circles along her back. She realized her shirt was stuck to her skin and her nose was dripping. 

“I’ve got you, Clarke. You’re safe. I promise, Clarke. You’re safe. I won’t leave you.” She heard the words whisper across the skin of her cheek and curl around her ear, before slipping inside. She felt them reverberate inside her ear, fester, and slither up inside her head to take root and pound behind her eyes. They slid down into her chest and gnawed away at her flesh, scraping her ribs, and burrowing deeper and deeper into the bone.

Clarke jerked her head back, crashing back against the arms that held her so suddenly, that she broke the brunette’s hold. Lexa reared her head back, but not quickly enough to avoid the ringing slap to her face and the shove against her chest. She was so unprepared for the attack, and as she scrambled backwards trying to regain her footing, she felt a well-aimed foot collide with her chest knocking her to the floor. She felt the air in her lungs explode out of her mouth, and she heaved inward, desperately trying to pull air back into her starved lungs. 

She barely heard the venomous words dripping from Clarke’s mouth, “You! You, did this. You brought them here!” 

Clarke scrambled out of bed after kicking the commander to the ground. Absolute rage consumed her. She was going to kill her. She was going to end this torment once and for all. Her demons would only die when Lexa died. And then she could die with her. 

Lexa scrambled to her feet, but fell again when she felt the hard body hit her own. She scrambled with Clarke, frantic to get the upper hand as she still tried to pull oxygen into her lungs. She was light-headed, and she knew she had made a grave error. And it was going to cost her. It was going to cost them all. 

The blonde was mad with grief and guilt, and she could see nothing but red, bubbling faces and hear them groaning in her ears, begging her, accusing her. She pulled back and punched Lexa hard in the face, feeling the satisfaction of the flesh giving way under her fist. 

Lexa tried not to yelp when the fist crashed into her face. She had managed to turn her head just in time to avoid a broken nose, but she would have a hell of a bruise on her cheek later. She wrapped both legs around the blonde’s hips and twisted, throwing her off balance and to the ground. She straddled the blonde, tucking her feet under so, she couldn’t throw her off. She grabbed both hands and slammed them to the ground above the blonde’s head and growled at her. 

“Stop! Em pleni, Clarke!” 

Clarke threw herself upward gnashing her teeth at Lexa, intent on causing as much harm as possible. She wanted to hit her, bite her, tear into her flesh and stop this madness.

“Get off! Get off! I’m going to fucking kill you, you bitch!”

Lexa jerked upright, barely managing to keep her hold on Clarke’s wrists as her body surged upward again. She grit her teeth, tempted to slap the blonde, but knowing that it would only make it worse. She was quickly losing the desire to not hurt her as Clarke bucked her hips trying to dislodge her. Instead she managed to wrap one hand around both wrists and with her free hand she slammed it down on the floor near Clarke’s face, hoping to startle her enough for Lexa to regain full control. The blonde barely flinched and simply renewed her efforts in trying to buck Lexa off. 

Lexa’s head whirled around as she heard the pound of feet and Indra and Mordecai stumbled into the room. Indra snarled and threw herself at the pair with her sword drawn, intent upon landing a killing blow to the blonde. 

Lexa threw up her hand as Indra charged, all snarling rage. “No, Indra! Stand down!”

Her head snapped back as a hand connected with her chin and she grabbed at the offending hand growling and cursing as she wrestled with the blonde.

“Heda!” Indra started towards the wrestling girls again, but screeched to a halt when Lexa looked up and yelled, “Mordecai!”

Indra stopped, confused as to why Heda was calling for the young warrior, but she froze and then turned slowly when she heard the rasp of twin blades being drawn from their scabbards. 

Mordecai crouched slightly holding both blades out towards Indra. She balanced lightly on the balls of her feet, ready to meet Indra’s assault. She sidestepped lightly trying to move between the women and Indra. 

Indra glared at the warrior hissing, “Mordecai. You would do well to sheath your swords.”

“No, Indra. Heda has commanded me to protect the Skai Prisa.” She flicked the ends of her swords at Indra briefly, not challenging, but prepared. 

Indra eyed the warrior warily and then flicked her eyes towards the wrestling women. She knew the Heda was stronger, but it was obvious she was trying not to harm the blonde, and that could be dangerous. The blonde could easily slip a knife between her ribs. She shuffled her feet slowly and then lowered the tip of her sword and slowly let her arm relax, but never took her eyes off Mordecai. 

They stood there facing each other their heads cocked towards the women listening to the sound of groans and curses. Mordecai slowly lowered her swords but didn’t move away from the women. 

“Enough, Clarke!” 

Lexa felt the blood drip off her chin. Clarke had managed to scratch her and it stung. She glared down at the girl who continued to try to buck her off, even though she held her wrists tightly to the floor. She leaned forward, tightening her thighs around the bucking hips. 

A drop of blood splashed on Clarke’s nose and slide down the side and on to her cheek. Then another drop, and then another. She froze, her mouth open, but no more curses tumbled out. Instead she looked into the dark, angry eyes of the Heda, and then her gaze flickered to Lexa’s chin.

The blood was rich and dark, and slowly pooled at the end of her chin and dripped down, landing on Clarke’s face. She was mesmerized. She couldn’t look away. She had made the formidable Heda bleed. She, Clarke, had made Heda bleed. She felt a vicious surge of satisfaction bloom in her chest, and she smiled darkly at Lexa. 

“You’re bleeding.” 

“Sha.” Lexa sat there, clenching her thighs and trying not to clench her teeth as she gazed into stormy eyes. They were so dark, almost black. She wanted to shudder. She had never seen Clarke’s eyes like that before. She looked at the red blood staining the pale cheek, and she felt her anger melt away, leaving her tired and worn. She loosened her grip on Clarke’s wrists, and unclenched her thighs. 

Clarke gazed into cold, black green eyes, and was slightly alarmed and then awed as the coldness slowly faded and the soft green reemerged, pushing through the black rings to shine bright. Clarke fought the sigh that wanted to burst forth. She couldn’t help it, there had always been something about Lexa’s eyes that had called to her. She had never seen any other shade of green that matched her eyes, and no other shade of green made her both want to weep and laugh. 

Clarke felt the rage slowly recede. It simmered and sunk down, clawing its way back into her flesh. It was over for now. Her initial desire to destroy Lexa, to rip her to shreds with her bare hands had passed. She was tired, and simply wanted to be alone. 

“Get off me. Please.” She whispered and refused to meet Lexa’s eyes. 

Lexa pulled back slightly gazing at the pale face. She tried to catch the blonde’s eyes, but it was no use. She rocked back and upward, stumbling to her feet. Not exactly graceful. She shrugged off Indra’s hand as she tried to steady her. 

She reached out a hand to help the blonde up, but she was pointedly ignored. She dropped her hand, irritated and sad. She moved back, wiping the blood off her chin with her hand. She flicked it to the floor, not caring where it splattered. She took the torn cloth that Indra offered her and held it to her face. She glanced up at Mordecai and nodded then jerked her head towards the blonde. 

Clarke ignored the hand that Lexa offered her. She was tired, and wasn’t sure if she even wanted to move from her spot on the floor. She definitely didn’t want to touch Lexa though. She was afraid she would either attack her again or maybe simply throw herself into the brunette’s arms. Either action was unacceptable at this point.

She watched from her spot on the floor as Lexa wiped up the blood on her chin and then nodded to the young warrior. 

“Come, Indra. It is over.” Lexa turned on her heel and picked up her sword, stepping outside the tent. She ordered the guards to return to their posts and motioned to Malachi to take his place. 

Clarke closed her eyes and lay there, listening as Lexa ordered the warriors back to their posts. She was cold. Alone. Empty. She heard a noise, and her eyes shot open only to tangle with dark grey eyes. She gazed at the warrior, unsure who she was. Then she noticed the hand held out to her. She reluctantly reached up and grasped it, and the warrior gently eased her to her feet and led her over to the bed. 

Clarke sat and watched as the woman moved quickly around the tent. She narrowed her eyes as she realized the woman seemed to know where everything was. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it abruptly as a mug was thrust in her face. She gingerly took it and drank the cool water. She watched as the warrior squatted a few feet away, not really looking at her, but keeping an eye on her. 

“Thanks.” She muttered. She drank the water, and then let the mug fall to the floor. She leaned over, resting her elbows on her thighs. She rubbed her face with her hands, smearing the dried blood slightly. 

“Who are you?” She waited. And waited. She sighed when she realized the warrior probably wasn’t going to answer her. She opened her mouth to growl at her and order her out when she finally replied. 

“Mordecai.”

“Mordecai?” She glanced at the warrior, noting the long lean muscles, dark skin. She was beautiful. Obviously a woman of few words. Clarke snorted. 

“So, Mordecai. Who are you and how do you know where everything is in my tent?” She smirked when the dark grey eyes flashed at her, but the smirk quickly disappeared when the warrior rose swiftly to her feet and towered over Clarke. Clarke thought at first she should probably be afraid. She didn’t think those twin blades were for show, but oddly enough, she thought she was probably safe from this Mordecai. Well, as safe as anyone. 

“Ask, Heda, if you want to know.” And with that Mordecai turned and swiftly exited the tent, nodding at Malachi and disappearing around the back of the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...what did you think of the fight? This incident isn't over and some major angst is coming, but you are also going to learn quite a bit more about Lexa, which I'm excited about, and Clexa is around the corner.


	15. I Wish I Could Have Given You More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....yup. There is some Ryko going on here!

CHAPTER 14: I Wish I Could Have Given You More

“How long are you going to allow this to continue, Heda?” Indra paced in Heda’s tent, angry and restless. The blonde needed to be taught a lesson. 

Lexa barely managed to stifle a groan. She was sore and the scratch on her chin, while not large, was deep. She really did not want to deal with Indra right now. She held the cold cloth to her face and slumped in her throne. She really was beyond caring what Indra or Nyko thought at this point, although she figured Indra was too irritated to notice, and Nyko too wise to say anything. 

She let the cloth drop into her lap and watched Indra pace while Nyko put together a small poultice. 

“Here, Heda, hold it to your face. It will help with the swelling.” She glared at the poultice he offered and almost waved him off, but she knew the less of a bruise she had in the morning, the easier it would be to ease her warriors’ anger. Attacking the Heda was punishable by death. A long death. A hard death. A death of many cries. 

She sighed and took it, holding it to her face. She waved him out. “Not a word to anyone, Nyko.” 

“Sha, Heda.” He bowed slightly and gathered up his items, placing them carefully in his leather bag. He didn’t know what to think of what had happened, but he wasn’t sure how Heda could avoid punishing the blonde. And somehow, he knew the Skikru would not take it well. He muffled the sigh, and quickly made his way out of the tent and back to his own. He hoped Ryder would know what to do. 

********************************************* 

He found his mate standing outside the blonde’s tent, about twenty feet from the entrance. It was enough to give the blonde privacy, but also stop anyone from entering. “Ryder,” he whispered when he neared him. He smiled as Ryder turned and stared at him impassively. Always the silent type when in public, but not so silent in their tent. Ryder had bit his way through more pillows then he could recall. He smirked at the thought. 

“Is she ok?” 

“Sha, Ryder, nothing keeps the Heda down for long.” He shuffled closer to his mate and relaxed when he felt Ryder lean towards him, resting his shoulder against his. 

“And the Skai Prisa?” Ryder edged closer to his mate. Even though Heda was ok, he could hear the worry in Nyko’s voice. He wanted to soothe him, but now was not the time, so instead he leaned in pressing his shoulder against Nyko’s offering his strength. A smile slipped across his face when he felt his mate lean into him and sigh quietly. 

“I don’t believe she was hurt, only Heda.” Nyko sighed, pressing closer to Ryder in the dark. He felt instantly better, but still he worried. “Ryder, what will happen? The Skai Prisa attacked the Heda. It is punishable by a thousand screams,” he whispered. His stomach burned. He liked the Skai Prisa, and he respected Abby. 

“The Skaikru will not accept it.” He hesitated as he felt Ryder shift against him. He knew Ryder did not fully trust the Skaikru, and he didn’t blame him, but Nyko had worked closely with Abby and the rest, and he couldn’t help but worry as to what this would do to them all.

Ryder huffed, his stomach burning at the thought of what the Skai Prisa had done to his Heda, “She needs to be punished, Nyko. She deserves to be punished, and the Skaikru must accept this or the alliance will fail. The warriors are already talking. They say that she allows the Skai Prisa to get away with too much.” His voice faltered and then hardened and he growled, “They say she is weak. She must prove that she isn’t.” 

He felt Nyko’s shoulders slump and he turned, brushing his chest against Nyko’s. His hand found its way to Nyko’s and he grasped it and squeezed lightly. “Nyko, do not worry. Heda must punish her. There is no other way, but Heda will show her mercy under the alliance.” He stepped closer to his mate, slipping an arm around his waist and held him for a moment and then stepped back. 

“If you are done for the night, you should go back to our tent. Rest, Nyko.” 

Nyko smiled wanly. He knew Ryder was right. The Skai Prisa would have to be punished, but it still made his stomach roil. He patted Ryder’s chest as he walked by, “I always rest better with you by my side,” he whispered. He smiled when he saw the light flicker through Ryder’s eyes, and he knew Ryder was pleased. He smiled as he walked away, and for a brief moment he wished that his Heda could have what he had. Once upon a time he had thought Heda could have this with the Skai Prisa, but now…well, now he wasn’t so sure.

He made his way to their tent, stepping through the flaps. He dropped his bag on the chair and threw himself on their bed. He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. He didn’t know how he would be able to look at Abby in the coming days.

He closed his eyes thinking of the fight he had overheard and what little Heda and Indra had told him. He now knew that this wasn’t the first time the Skai Prisa had attacked the Heda, but he also now knew that the Skai Prisa was tormented by horrifying dreams that she barely slept, and the Heda worried for her sanity. 

He looked up at the ceiling tapping his fingers against his lips. Perhaps….it was obvious to him that the Heda cared greatly for the Skaikru’s leader. He thought back to the few times he had seen them interact, and he realized that there had been a few glances that now made him question just how intent the Skai Prisa really was on hurting his Heda. He had seen her look at Heda with what he could only describe as longing. But then a bitter look would scowl across her features and he would wonder again. He hummed to himself. Perhaps not all was hopeless. After all, love and hate were simply two edges to the same blade. He smiled and nodded to himself. There was hope. 

*********************************************** 

Clarke sat on the floor, slumped against her bed. Her muscles ached, and her head felt heavy and stuffy. She didn’t even have the energy to cry or move. She was just so tired. She wanted it to stop. All of it. She wanted the screams and whispers in her head to stop, wanted the cold hollow in her chest to fill. She wanted to stop being so damn angry, but she didn’t know how. She didn’t know what else to do besides kill Lexa. 

She knew that they would punish her for this. Too many people knew she had attacked the Heda. She was sure it was punishable by death. The thought of dying didn’t really bother her, what bothered her was that she wouldn’t be able to have her revenge, her bloody justice against Lexa. She ignored the one little voice that challenged her and argued with her. Did she really want vengeance against Lexa? But if she succeeded, she would die with Lexa. She was going to die anyway. Either now or after she killed Lexa. But if she wanted to kill Lexa, she had to do it quickly, before they came for her. 

She groaned as she heaved herself to her feet, and knelt before the small stand next to her bed. She flipped it on its side, and carefully unscrewed the very bottom of one of the legs. She let the vial slip into her hand. She rolled it carefully around in palm. She had stolen it from her mother’s lab. She knew what it would do. She sighed and stood to her feet. She supposed it had always come down to this. 

She pulled on pants and a shirt, not caring if they were dirty or not. She didn’t bother with her boots. She stood and walked over to the small table, looking at all the items. She grabbed the leather flask of wine and poured half of it into a bowl. There was enough for two mugs left. She grabbed the cork with her teeth and popped it from the vial. She hesitated and felt the tears burn her eyes. She poured the vial into the wine and swished the flask around. She spit the cork out on to the floor, and then walked out of her tent.

She saw the guards around her tent. More than usual. She figured they probably had orders to keep her in her tent. But to her surprise they stepped back, opening the ring to let her through. A few trailed her as she made her way to Heda’s tent. She stopped a few feet from her tent. Indra stood there with her spear pointed at her. She felt the bitter laugh bubble inside her throat. Who knew it would end like this? That they would be back here, right in this same place.

“I want to see Heda.” 

“No. Be gone, Skai Prisa.” Indra simply stared at her, refusing to budge an inch. The tip of her spear didn’t waver, not even when she felt the pressure on the end of the tip, and she gazed impassively at the flinch that crossed the blonde’s face. She didn’t need to look down to know that a red flower was blooming across the girl’s belly. They had been here before. They had done this dance before, and so Indra waited, knowing what would come next. 

“Let her pass.” 

Indra raised her spear, catching the tip along the girl’s belly, feeling the flesh part. She didn’t draw back. She wanted Clarke to feel it, wanted her to bleed. Jus drein, jud draun.

Clarke felt the blood slowly drip down her belly. But she didn’t drop her eyes from Indra’s. And once the tip of the spear had slid along her flesh, scratching and cutting, she felt relief at the pain that rippled across her frame.

She walked by Indra and stepped inside the tent, letting the heavy leather flap shut behind her. 

She was sitting in her throne, but she was still in shorts and t-shirt. Her hair had been pulled back from her face. She looked young. She looked tired, as if the fight had gone out of her. She eyed the blonde impassively, noting the flask held loosely in her hand. She flickered her eyes down the jeans and seeing the bare feet peeking out from under the torn hems. She wanted to smile. The blonde looked young, innocent. But she knew she wasn’t. She was cloaked in death, burned in blood, and battered in bone. 

“What do you want, Clarke?” She didn’t bother to keep the weariness from her voice. 

Clarke stood there. She heard the tired voice filter through the voices in her head. She wished it was different. She wished she could have simply stopped, but she didn’t know how. She didn’t know how to live in this new world. She simply wanted to die in it.

It briefly occurred to her that she was going mad, one breath, one scream at a time; that she should turn around and go back to her tent, that there was still time. But she knew. She knew Lexa would drink the wine. Lexa wouldn’t deny her this time. 

She walked over to the throne and lifted the flask. She jiggled it at Lexa. 

“Wine.”

“Why?” Lexa sat up slightly looking at the blonde. She wasn’t entirely sure what had brought her here. Was it a peace offering? Something sinister? She felt the cold claw at her chest. She didn’t like the resignation in the girl’s eyes. But maybe this was the only way. The only way to finally bring her peace. 

“Because,” Clarke jiggled the flask again and gestured to Lexa’s face, “because I’m sure your face hurts, and my bones ache, and wine seemed like the only thing left to do.” She laughed. It wasn’t comforting. It was coarse and bitter. 

“The only thing left, Clarke?” Lexa stood and stepped down from the dais and walked over to Clarke to stand in front of her. She searched her eyes, searching and hoping. She felt the pain scourge in her stomach. 

Clarke shrugged. She knew what Lexa was looking for, and she was sure she wouldn’t find it. Or maybe she would, and maybe it wouldn’t make a difference. She popped the cork off the flask and raised it to Lexa, “Well?” She pleaded with her, wrapping it up in a challenge. 

“Is this what you want, Clarke? Will this make you feel better?” Lexa felt the final vestiges of anger leave her body. She wanted this over. She didn’t want to fight the blonde anymore. Maybe it was time they all paid for their sins. She knew what was in the wine. Nyko had told her about the missing vial. She had hoped. Hoped that the blonde wouldn’t resort to it, but obviously she decided she had no other choice. Maybe this would bring her peace. She owed Clarke. She owed her this. 

She felt the word stick in her throat. She couldn’t bring herself to push it past her teeth. So instead she simply raised the flask again towards the brunette, and then pulled it back and took a drink. She felt the bitter wine slide down her throat, and she swallowed once, twice, and she pulled it from her lips and held it out to Lexa. 

Lexa reached out and grasped it, looking at the drops that clung to her lips. She wanted to kiss her. She wanted to feel her lips against hers again. She would have this. This much she would have. She stepped in to the blonde’s body, feeling the soft curves flush against her own. She held the flask and leaned in, gazing at the dark stormy eyes. She smiled a little at the realization that slipped through those blue eyes. She had never seen such a color before. No other color had made her feel so much. Blue was the color of water and flowers, the color of pain and rage, the color of the air she breathed; the color of possibility, the color of what could have been. Blue was simply THE color. The only one that mattered. 

Clarke knew what Lexa was going to do, and she welcomed it. It would be there final goodbye. Betrayal and revenge with a kiss. So she leaned in that last little bit and pressed her open mouth to the soft lips. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she wanted to moan into the kiss, instead she pressed her tongue against Lexa’s lips demanding entrance. 

Lexa sighed into the kiss, opening her mouth to the insistent tongue. She let it push into her mouth, and she welcomed the feel of her, the taste of her. She wanted to stay here, pressed against the blonde, but she was well aware of the fact that the blonde hadn’t raised her arms to encircle her waist or her back. No, her arms hung stiffly at her sides, and Lexa felt something break inside of her despite relishing the feel of the blonde’s mouth sliding against her own. 

She reluctantly pulled back and stepped away. She stared into the blonde’s eyes and raised the flask to her lips.

“So be it.” She let the bitter liquid slide down her throat, and she swallowed. And swallowed again. And again, until she had drained the flask. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and tossed the flask aside. 

“I hope you find peace, Clarke. I just wish that I hadn’t taken so much from you. I wish I could have given you more.” And she turned her back on the blonde and walked to the back room. She slipped between the flaps and fell down on her bed, feeling the warmth of the alcohol curl through her muscles, soaking in, soaking to the bone. Soon it would start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a bit of a cliffie. :P What did you think of Ryko (Nyko/Ryder) Thoughts?


	16. This Rebirth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was originally 3,000 words. It is now 5,000. Every single night this week, I have gone back and re-written this chapter. It is a pivotal chapter, and probably the most important one. Pretty much the rest of the story hinges on this. I hope I did it justice.

CHAPTER 15: This Rebirth

Clarke stood there alone in the outer room. She waited for the relief, for the sense of justice, or even vengeance, the satisfaction. Instead the cold hollow in her chest grew and grew, and she felt her ribs creak and stretch, and she was surprised when they didn’t shatter in her chest from the cold. 

She turned and walked out, nodding at the guards. She made her way back to her tent. No one stopped her. They should have, but they didn’t. Didn’t they know what she had done? Why didn’t they stop her? She groaned and shook her head, the questions tumbling through her fractured mind. 

She entered her tent, noting again the wide berth the warriors seemed to be giving it, but still she noticed them. And that was telling. They were scattered around the encampment, as if waiting for something. Did they suspect? Was it a trap? Did it really matter?

She slipped into her tent, exhausted, broken, grasping at empty promises that only she could hear. She sat on her bed and looked down at the blood on her shirt. She stripped it off and patted at the drying blood on her stomach. It had mostly clotted, but she decided there wasn’t any point in bandaging it or even cleaning it. Whatever bacteria was on the spearhead wouldn’t be what would kill her. 

They would.

They would come for her soon, once they found Lexa. Lexa. She wondered when she had become Lexa again. She supposed it didn’t matter anymore. She shut her eyes and felt the hot tears slide down her cheeks. It would be over soon. She knew she hadn’t drunk enough to grant her permanency, and she wondered briefly if there had been enough poison in the flask to kill Lexa. Why had she drunk the wine? She knew it wasn’t enough poison to kill her. Maybe she just wanted to hurt, to feel the pain, to pay for what she had done. No, there wasn’t enough poison to grant her permanency. No, the Trikru would give her permanency. They would give her more pain, and she would scream for them, and that would be her absolution. 

She laughed. Hard and vicious and she choked on the tears and felt the snot drip down her lip. She tried to wipe it off with her hand, but only managed to smear it across her lips. And then she laughed, what did it really matter? The voices hadn’t stopped. They clamored and pounded in her head, screaming to be let out. They clawed at her, chewed at her, and she bled. She hadn’t silenced them. She felt the last pieces of her psyche, the part of her that she had managed to keep from them, begin to fracture, and she felt the pain in her belly curdle. 

She slid off the bed, choking on the sobs and ignoring the burning that she felt moving sluggishly through her muscles. She knelt in front of the trunk and heaved open the lid. She grabbed the leather jacket with shaking hands and brought it to her chest, and she sobbed for all that she had lost, all that she had sacrificed, and all that she had done. Still sobbing she managed to unclench her fists form the leather and she slipped her arms into the jacket. She pulled it around her, wrapped her arms around herself and hunched over her legs sobbing. 

She rested her forehead against the edge of the trunk, her shoulders heaving and her breath tearing from her lungs and mouth. She coughed and sat up, pushing her arms inside the trunk. She grabbed handfuls of cloth and flung it out of the trunk, frantically trying to reach the package underneath. Her fingers hit the package, and she wrapped her fingers around it, and pulled it gently from the trunk. 

She set it in her lap and stared at the parchment paper that was wrapped around the box. Heavy twine tied the paper together. She reached out with a shaking hand and carefully pulled at the twine, until it fell away with the paper. 

It was a plain wooden box, stained a dark red. But she noticed the cog carved into the lid of the box. She ran her fingers over it, gently tracing it over and over again. The design was familiar, and she knew she had seen it before. Her fingers skipped over the cog and then stopped when she remembered where she had seen it before. It was the symbol that the Heda wore. And she knew whose box it was. 

She took a deep breath and lifted the lid letting it fall away. She gently pulled the leather journal out of the lid, and underneath was heavy, blank paper. She opened the journal and slowly flipped through the heavy, rough pages. It began with a child’s scrawl and small sketches. But as the pages flipped by, the scrawl curved and straightened and matured. The sketches were more detailed, and she recognized faces. Her thumb stopped on one sketch. It had been done in color. The only one done in color. 

She gazed into her own blue eyes, shocked at how Lexa had captured her likeness. Her eyes were warm and blue, like the sky, but they sparkled and gleamed. She wondered how Lexa had made them shine so. Did her eyes shine? Had they ever really shined? She sniffled when she saw the smile flirting with the corners of her mouth. She looked beautiful. Was this how Lexa saw her? She noticed the words next to the sketch, she knew it was a poem, but she couldn’t bring herself to read it. She closed the pages softly.

She set the journal aside, and lifted the paper a few inches to see what was underneath. She gently touched the small lidded, clay pots. She traced her fingers lightly over the cool pottery, feeling the smooth etchings. The pots themselves were small works of art, and nestled against them were brushes of varying sizes. She wondered at the time and effort it must have taken to put this together. She had hid it beneath the clothing, knowing that Clarke wouldn’t be ready to accept it if she has simply placed it on the top, and it had been the first thing she had seen, had opened. And Lexa had simply known. She had known everything before Clarke even had. 

She let the pages fall back into the box with a flutter. She grasped the lid to close it and that is when she saw the carving on the inside of the lid. The carving was slanted, some of the cuts shallow, others deep slashes. It was childish, and her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense out of the scrawl. And then she realized that it had been a child who had carved her name into the lid. For Heda’s symbol may have been carved on the outside by a craftsmen, but it was the inside of the lid that mattered, for it was here that a young Heda had cut her name, not Heda’s name; but her name. Her name, as if she were afraid. Afraid of being forgotten. 

She saw her then, a young child with brown curly hair tumbling down her face in an unruly mess, small tongue poking out, as she carefully carved her name into the stained wood. Her slim, little fingers grasped the knife, and there was a defiant gleam in her beautiful, wet jade eyes. Clarke gasped, but the child didn’t notice her, and Clarke raised a trembling hand to her lips and felt the hot tears slide down her fingers to follow the curve of her wrist. 

“Alexandria,” she whispered in the empty tent. The name hovered in the air and then broke into pieces, falling all around her like ash, as the child flickered in front of her, only to shift and disappear in a wisp. She imagined she could feel it kiss her skin and settle against her flesh, light and yet suffocating, choking off the very air that shifted around her body.

She let her hand fall into her lap, and then she raised it again in the air, fingers trembling, testing the air around her, searching for an apparition. Her fingers fluttered helplessly in the stillness as her heart mourned a child she had never met. 

“Oh, Lexa.” And more hot tears burned down her cheeks, and she imagined it was blood, because surely her shattering, stuttering heart could do no more than scour her flesh with bloody tears. And her stomach cramped, and she moaned, whether from the pain in her belly or her heart, she didn’t know. And it didn’t matter. 

So she sat there, her fingers tracing the name lightly, remembering just a few days ago when Lexa had told her that she was the oldest Heda, how she had been called as a child. She remembered the pain that had flashed in Lexa’s eyes when she mentioned the trials. And Clarke had known that the wounds burned deep in Lexa, but she hadn’t let herself think about it. But now she did. She thought about how a child had united the clans. She considered the ruthlessness, the sacrifice that it must have required to bring a lasting peace, or at least a semblance of peace to her people. 

She united them at the end of a sword, and that is why Lexa had always been one step ahead of Clarke. She had already walked this path. She had tasted madness, and worn guilt like a mantle, and she had learned to survive and live with it. And with each rebirth, she harbored the memories of her predecessors in her breast: their joys, their trials, their horrors, and dreams. She bore a thousand tragedies and sacrifices. It was her curse, her destiny. And a child in dripping war paint, and a sword bigger than herself had never had the chance to say no. 

And Clarke wondered if it was too late, if she had already burned it all to the ground, everything that had mattered. She had killed, and then killed again, and she would never be one of the good guys. Not because she committed genocide in a brutal world that didn’t understand mercy or forgive weakness, but because of this. Because of Alexandria. Forgiveness was a luxury she could ill afford, but revenge was a hungry god, and she had given it too much. And she desperately wanted to meet that child, who had become the woman. The woman that she could have loved, the woman she had killed. 

And everything came into focus, and she groaned deeply in her chest, realizing exactly what she had done. She had risked everything for revenge: her friends, her people, the Trikru, even Lexa. Because would the Trikru really stop with just her death? Would they not demand the complete eradication of her people? She had thought the alliance would protect them, but Lexa had already proved the worth of any alliance with the Trikru. Lexa was ruthless, brutal, she would always survive. When the last warrior took her breath, when the last child closed his eyes, Lexa would still be standing; because her spirit had already burned a dozen times and been reborn a dozen and one more. 

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck,” she whimpered as she ground the dirty heels of her palms into her eyes, “what have I done? Oh god,” she sobbed as she rocked back and forth. Her people were in danger, but not just her people. She had set in motion the beginning of rebirth, and Clarke didn’t want to imagine another child Heda. She needed Lexa’s spirit to stay where it was. She needed Lexa to stay. To stay when she could leave. 

“Nothing. It was all for nothing. I broke the alliance. I’ve endangered them all,” she laughed bitterly as she choked on the tears as she rocked back and forth, “I killed all of those people to save Jasper and Monty and Raven, “and look at what I’ve done!” she shouted to the walls of her tent. “I’ve killed my people. After everything I did to save them, I have now killed them! I killed her!” 

She felt the pain in her belly intensify, and she moaned feeling the bile rise in her throat. She scrambled up onto shaking legs and grabbed at the pail, heaving into it. She grabbed at her satchel looking for the second vial that she had stolen. She hadn’t contemplated why she had stolen it when she had, but she knew now why. She was never going to be able to let Lexa go, as much as she wanted to, she never would. 

And she could live with that. 

********************************* 

She grabbed the vial and lurched back to her feet, almost doubling over at the pain. She felt the sweat break out across her skin, and slick down her back. She stumbled out of her tent, waving the guards away. “I’m fine. I’m fine,” she gasped. She felt a hand steady her elbow, and she looked into Mordecai’s knowing eyes. “I can fix it. I can fix it,” she whispered as she felt the hand tighten on her elbow. 

“Please,” the tears flooded her eyes again, “Please let me fix it.” She gasped in relief when the dark haired woman gave her a silent nod, and grasped her forearm, pulling her quickly towards Lexa’s tent. 

“Hurry.” She shoved the blonde into the tent and then turned her back to the doorway. Her dark eyes scanned the night, noting the guards who stood uneasily, unsure what to do. They knew something wasn’t right. They could feel the stillness in the air, as if the earth herself was holding her breath. So they shifted and glanced around, their hands tightening around their weapons. They had their orders. 

Mordecai recognized the tinder when she saw it in their glances that refused to stop and rest anywhere. All it would take was one wrong move, one little spark to set them off. Her gaze clashed with Indra’s and she nodded at her. She knew Indra was angry, she hadn’t wanted to go along with the plan, but Heda had insisted. Indra didn’t have the same faith in the blonde that Lexa did, and Indra just hoped it wouldn’t kill her in the end. 

She cupped her hands around her mouth and let out three short whistles imitating the call of the pecking thrush. She knew he would hear it and come quickly. She waited a moment and then she saw his shadow approach on her left. She didn’t turn and look at him but instead whispered out of the corner of her mouth to him. He already had his orders, but now was time to send him. 

“Hurry, brother. You know what to do.” She flicked her fingers at him and breathed a sigh of relief as he quickly melted into the tree line. It was set in motion, and she knew he would bring back the package as quickly as possible. There was nothing left to do but wait, and hope that Heda’s faith hadn’t been misplaced. 

********************************************** 

Clarke stumbled into the tent, hearing the low groans from the back room. She hurried to the pitcher of water, grabbing it and the bowl it rested in. She grabbed a cloth and hurried into the back room. She found her just as she expected, curled up into a ball, her arms wrapped around her middle, the sweat slicking her skin. The room already smelled of sickness. Of death. She set the items down. 

“I can fix this, Lexa. I will fix it.” She hurried back out on unsteady legs, stopping long enough to vomit on the floor. She would clean it up later. She grabbed a bucket and made her way back into the room, trying to maintain her balance as she felt the claws sink into her bones. She wanted to scream as she felt them creak and groan inside her abused muscles. She should have chosen a different poison. She shouldn’t have chosen poison. She simply shouldn’t have….

Lexa’s eyes were screwed shut, her body twitching with the pain shuddering through her body. Clarke felt the tears burn down her cheeks again. She could still fix this. She had to. She had intended to die with Lexa, because she knew the truth, even as she poured the poison into the flask. She didn’t want to live in a world without Lexa. She had already lived in that world, and it had destroyed her. She felt the panic claw at her throat as the brunette thrashed on the bed. 

But now she knew the whole truth, the truth she had known before Mount Weather and after Mount Weather. It wasn’t as simple as surviving in a world without Lexa, but rather she didn’t want a world without Lexa. No world should exist without Lexa, and she wasn’t prepared to burn the world to ash. And she would be damned if another child would be called before his time. Another child with a broken body and bloody sword. Not again. 

She sat on the edge of the bed, sliding her hand under Lexa’s neck and pulled her toward her. She wiped her face with the wet cloth she held in her other hand and then she dropped it in her lap, grabbing the vial and flicking the cork out with her thumb. 

“Lexa. Lexa, open your mouth, you have to drink. Please, Lexa.” She nudged at the girl’s chin with her fingers, pressing down trying to get her to open her mouth. The eyes fluttered open, and she gazed at the wounded, clouded green of her eyes. Her mouth opened slightly. 

“Cl-Clarke? It hurts, Clarke,” she whimpered. She knew it would hurt, but Clarke had come, come like she had dared hope. 

Clarke seized the opportunity and shoved the vial into her mouth and tipped back the contents. She dropped it and clamped her hand over her mouth so none could spill out.

“It’s ok, Lexa. I’m going to fix it. Swallow, Lexa.” She pleaded with the girl, and choked back a sob of relief when she felt her swallow. She slowly laid her back down on the bed and grabbed the bucket, knowing it was going to be a long night. She ignored the pain clawing at her insides. She hadn’t drunk any of the contents of the vial. She knew Lexa would need it all, and the pain was her punishment for what she had done. Well part of it. She knew more would come later, and she was ready.

She ran the wet cloth across her face and down her neck. She pulled up her thin tank top and swished it across her belly trying to cool her down. She felt the body shake and curl into itself. She eyed the pitcher of water. She would need more, but she couldn’t leave her. 

She grabbed the pitcher and hurried to the flap, knowing that Mordecai would be there. She pulled the flaps back slightly, and Mordecai turned and raised an eyebrow. “I need more water. As cold as you can get.” She shoved the pitcher at Mordecai, and was relieved when she grabbed it without saying a word and hurried away. Clarke released the flap and started to turn to head back to Lexa, when she felt iron fingers crash around her wrist. 

The arm jerked her back and she almost collided with Indra who glared at her. 

“I know what you did, and you had better fix this, Skai girl.” Indra tightened her grip on the wrist and leaned in closer, “she believes you can be saved. Saved from yourself. She says you aren’t broken beyond repair. I think her love has weakened her, and clouded her mind. But she believes in you.” Indra leaned closer and growled at her, her eyes burning bright, “do not fail her, Clarke.” She then released Clarke’s wrist with a shove and turned her back on her, stepping outside of the tent again. 

Clarke tried to still her shaking hands. Indra’s words rang all around her, burrowed deep in her mind and banged and clanged against the voices: “I think her love has weakened her…she believes in you…do not fail her….her love….her love…do not fail her…weak…love…weak…”

She steadied herself grimly. She would not fail Lexa, as for the rest…she would think about that later. 

She hurried back to the bed, feeling the sweat sliding down her face. Her legs were weak, and she stumbled into the small room, falling on to the bed, the pain searing through her. She groaned and clutched at her middle, heaving herself up and sliding off the bed to fall into a graceless heap on the floor. She managed to sit up, when she heard the choking above her, and she grabbed the bucket and reached up with her other hand, grabbing at the arm and pulling her to the edge of the bed. She bit back her groan, when Lexa heaved up the contents of her stomach. 

The stench hung thick in the air, and Clarke felt the bile rise in her throat, she didn’t bother to push it back down, she needed to empty the poison in both their bodies. So she leaned over and vomited in the basin, surprised that there was anything left in her abused stomach. She went to wipe the vomit off her mouth, when she realized she was still wearing the jacket. She hesitated, part of her not wanting to take it off, not wanting to lose that connection to Lexa, but she didn’t want to ruin it, so she let it slide off her arms, and she tossed it into the corner away from the vomit. 

She heard the thump on the bed, and she pulled herself up and on to the bed. She wrestled Lexa out of the thin tank, leaving her in just the cloth that bound her breasts and the shorts. She breathed a sigh of relief when Mordecai slipped into the room with the pitcher and another bucket of cold water. She knelt down next to Clarke and pulled a pouch off her hip and handed it to Clarke who fumbled it and dropped it. 

“From Nyko. It will help. It’s the antidote.” Mordecai glanced at the pale Heda, the sweat glistening on her skin, vomit staining her mouth. 

“What did you give her?” 

“Ipe. It makes a person vomit. She will vomit the poison out of her system. The poison doesn’t work quickly..” Clarke picked up the pouch and glanced at the herbs. She handed it back to Mordecai, “Can you please steep this in a tea?” 

Mordecai nodded and rose gracefully to her feet trying to ignore the low cries of her Heda. Part of her itched to punish the blonde, but that was not what Heda wanted. So instead she stepped out of the room, but stopped when she heard Clarke’s shaking voice again.

“The antidote? How did Nyko know which antidote?” 

“He knew what you had stolen from the lab, so he prepared this ahead of time; in case you failed Heda.” Mordecai turned and looked at the shame-faced blonde. She stepped back into the room and squatted down in front of the blonde ignoring the tears on the girl’s face. Her grey eyes were hard, like shining stones, and she grit her teeth briefly.

“Heda knew. She knew what you would do, she just wasn’t sure when, and she ordered us not to interfere,” Mordecai bared her teeth at the blonde, “but make no mistake, Skai Prisa, Heda always knew what was in the wine, and she was prepared for what was to come.”

She looked up at her Heda, the girl barely breathing, her skin so pale. “She wanted better for you. She wanted you to learn to live here on earth, not just survive. She wanted to give this to you, even if you failed her, and she died.”

“If I failed her?” Clarke’s voice shook as she stared at the warrior, knowing she was staring death in the face, that the warrior would rip her to shreds. She also realized that she was the one whose eyes she had felt upon her, but could never see. She sighed. Lexa had ordered her to follow her. 

“Yes, she believed you would either not go through with it, or you would come back for her.” 

“Who else believed?” 

“No one,” bit out the dark-haired woman. But she was lying, and Clarke saw it. She wanted to question her further, but she quickly wrapped her arms around Lexa when she heard her choking again, and she helped her roll to the side of the bed, while Mordecai held the bucket. 

After, she bathed her face and neck again, her belly. She felt the tears fall and drip on to Lexa’s face. She sat up and looked at Mordecai. “She had you follow me.” She didn’t bother to ask, she already knew. It had been the smart thing to do. 

Mordecai nodded, “but not entirely for the reasons you think,” Mordecai hesitated, unsure if it was her place to reveal so much to the Skai Prisa. 

Clarke hand scrabbled to a stop while swiping the cloth across Lexa’s belly, but then she started again, concentrating on the muscles that she outline with the cloth. She dared not look at Mordecai.

She sighed. Stupid girl. She grimaced and continued, “I was ordered to report back to Heda on your whereabouts, what you were doing, who you were talking to. But I was also ordered to watch over you, keep you safe, even safe from other Trikru if necessary. She knew that some wanted you dead, especially the more insolent you were to her. It was my duty to protect you from them.” She looked at the blonde, willing her to look at her, and when Clarke finally met her eyes, she continued. 

“And I did. Indra would have killed you tonight. She tried to. I went against my general tonight.” 

“Thank you.” Clarke barely managed to get the words out, knowing it had cost Mordecai something to go against Indra. 

“Don’t thank me. Thank Heda,” and with that Mordecai stood quickly and strode into the outer room to make the tea. 

************************************* 

Hours crawled by, and they fell into a routine: Mordecai fetching water and reporting to Indra, Clarke wiping the sweat from Lexa’s body with a cool, wet cloth; and both of them making her drink the tea. 

Clarke eventually stopped vomiting and the pain slowly subsided. She drank the tea from Nyko and felt her head clear, and as she held Lexa smoothing the hair back from her fevered brow. She lay with her head on Lexa’s chest, listening to the chaotic pounding of her heart. She couldn’t hear the voices.

*********************************** 

The pain burrowed deep in her bones and she cried out as she felt the fire lick inside of her. Everything burned and hurt. She had never felt such pain, not even during her trials, and what was left of her mind that wasn’t cowering from the pain, knew it was the poison that burrowed its claws deep into her bone, shredding tissue and muscle to get to the root of her being. 

And sometimes she thought she heard Clarke’s voice, but she knew how poison worked, how it foraged deep into the mind, ripping it a part, spilling its violence into her soul. It played tricks on her, and she knew she was dying. Clarke had not returned. She had believed Clarke would come back as she let the wine and poison slide down her throat, but she had prepared in case she didn’t. She had wondered though after drinking the wine, if perhaps she should have never interfered. Maybe she had nothing left to give Clarke but her death, and she prayed to soulless gods that it would grant the blonde peace. And if she did pass, she knew she would be reborn, and once she was, she would seek her out, beg her for forgiveness, like she had been unable to in this life. 

She comforted herself with this, even though she knew it was a lie. She knew the blonde intended to die with her, her only hope was that she hadn’t drunk enough, and if she had, if Clarke found another way; then she prayed that she would find Clarke in reincarnation, for surely someone as strong and broken as Clarke deserved a second chance. And she hoped. She hoped. 

And so she shook and writhed on the bed, the groans tearing from her raw throat. And she heaved and choked and felt herself suffocating breath by breath. Her lungs burned, and she felt her mind rip apart, the poison searching for the one piece she held back, the one piece she had locked away, guarded with all the strength she had left: Clarke. It had already ripped Gustus and Costia and Anya from her mind, mocking her, and still she fought, refusing to give up Clarke. It was all she had left of the blonde, and she would not let the poison destroy the last good part of Lexa, the redeemable part, the part that was forgiven. The part that was Clarke.

And as her body sagged back into the furs, she opened her eyes to meet wet, blue; and she took her last breath and let it slip past her lips, and she smiled, “Klark.”

Clarke pressed her lips into Lexa’s tasting her name on her lips. It was sweet and beautiful, and it filled the cold hollow in her chest, and she could breathe. She could finally breathe. 

And the voices faded and stilled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I hope that this doesn't seem like a 180 change in her behavior, because it isn't. Clarke still hasn't forgiven Lexa.
> 
> Thoughts on a young Heda? Btw...young Heda was inspired by the sketch of a young Lexa in warpaint and armor standing in front of Anya with her head down. Anya is squatting in front of her. It is a beautiful sketch, and if I remember correctly, it is by Miniquinn on Tumblr.


	17. Chapter 16: Rise Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don't actually like this chapter as much as some of the others. But it is necessary to introduce another plot line. Hope you still enjoy.

CHAPTER 16: Rise Again

“Klark.” She swallowed her name on her lips, pressing her mouth sharply to Lexa’s. It was sweet and warm. She felt the air slip out of Lexa’s weakened lungs, and she pushed her breath into Lexa’s with all of her might. 

“Please, Leska. Please. Don’t leave me. Not again. Oh god, please not again,” and Clarke put her hands on her chest and pushed down once, twice, three, and she kept pushing and then she stopped and pressed her mouth to Lexa’s again, forcing the air into her lungs: once, twice; and then she pushed on her chest again and again. She felt the tears and snot run down her face, and she didn’t care. She didn’t care about the words that stumbled past the iron cage of her mouth, “Please, Lexa! Beja! Please don’t go. Don’t leave me again. Stay. I need you to stay!” She shoved Mordecai and Indra away when she felt their hands grab her shoulders. 

“No! No!” she cried, “I’m not done, I can save her! I can save her!” She pleaded with them as they pulled at her, and she threw herself across Lexa’s body, unwilling to let go. She had done this. She had done this. 

Then she heard the soft words and warm hands tumble across her face, “Clarke, baby. It’s ok, back up, let me help. Please, Clarke, let me help.” She looked up through her tears into the worried face of her mother and she let go of Lexa. She didn’t know how her mother was here, she didn’t care, all that mattered was she was here, and she could save Lexa. She would save Lexa. She clung to the raw hope, feeling it burn her as she clutched at it with desperate fingers, pushing it into her cold chest, sheltering it within her breast. It was agonizing, this hope. Hope that should not exist.

“Save her, mom, please,” she sobbed, “please fix this. I’ve done this, but please save her.” And she fell back off the bed, and her mother moved quickly, and Clarke noticed the needle in her hand. She stabbed Lexa in the chest with it, then dropped the empty vial to the floor. Nothing. 

Clarke felt Mordecai’s hands on her shoulders, steadying her, and she heard the nervous, angry pacing of Indra, and she vaguely heard Nyko muttering something about the antidote should have worked. She watched as her mother pull the shock lash from her belt and raise it over her head. She heard the sizzle and whine, and the arc of electricity hit Lexa in the chest. 

Abby raised the shock lash again, and hit her again with it, willing her to breathe, she couldn’t afford for Lexa to die. The adrenalin should have worked, but it hadn’t. And now her only hope was to bring her back the same way she had the Lincoln and the other reapers. For she had just gotten Clarke back, and she knew it would destroy Clarke, and they would kill her, if she didn’t kill herself first. Abby knew all this, remembered all the times she had failed Clarke, and she vowed she wouldn’t fail again, so she raised the rod high above her head and brought it down with as much force as she could must, hitting the button, and Lexa’s body arched off the bed, her back bowed and air scored through her lungs, and her heart jumped in her chest. 

Lexa fell back against the furs, her heart jumping and pumping madly, as her lungs wheezed and desperately tried to pull in air. She felt strong hands slip under her shoulders and raise her up slightly so she could breathe better. She felt hands on her flitting across her face and felt soft words drip across her skin. She knew it was Clarke. Clarke had come, hadn’t left her to face death alone. She opened bleary eyes, and met salty blue. Her heart clenched in her chest, but she didn’t have the strength to reach out and touch her. She tried to smile at her, but her chest wheezed and she coughed. She felt the mug against her lips, and she obediently opened, and the tea dribbled down her raw throat.

Clarke barely managed to hold the mug against Lexa’s lips, but she needed to do this, make sure she drank all of Nyko’s tea. She caressed the smooth skin of her neck, knowing her throat was raw. She wished she could reach in and sooth away the pain, but she couldn’t.

Abby carefully laid Lexa back against the bed, and smoothed her hand across the brow, noting it was cooler to the touch now. She glanced up seeing all their concerned faces: Nyko and Ryder, Indra, Malachi, and a female warrior she didn’t recognize.

“She will be ok. I think the worst has passed. She will be weak for a few days, but she will be fine.” She glanced at Clarke who hadn’t looked at her, her eyes were glued to Lexa’s face, and her hands kept smoothing her hair and gently rubbing her belly. She dropped her hand to Clarke’s shoulder and squeezed, but her head jerked up when she heard the unmistakable sound of steel being released from its sheathe. 

She met Indra’s fierce gaze and stepped between her and Clarke’s back. “No. No, Indra, we aren’t doing this.” 

Nyko stepped back, busying himself with more tea. Malachi and Mordecai stood to the side, carefully watching what would unfold next. Ryder tensed, unsure for the first time where his duty lay. Always to the Heda, but he thought perhaps the Heda would not be pleased if Indra killed the mother of her love. 

“She tried to kill the Heda, and this isn’t the first time. She will face Trikru justice.” Indra held her sword in front of her, sure and unwavering. She met Abby’s gaze unflinchingly, and she had to admire the courage of the woman. She had come a long way from the weak, arrogant woman who had first fallen from the stars, but her face didn’t betray any of this.

“And when did the Commander face Trikru justice or even Skaikru justice after what she did?” Abby stepped closer to Indra, refusing to look away. She would not allow this, and she felt the tip of the sword against her breast, and she refused to budge, not even when Indra applied the slightest pressure. She felt the tip pierce her skin, but still she refused to move. She was a mother, first and foremost, and she would not allow this. 

Indra swallowed the smile that wanted to break free. How like her daughter. But then again, this must be where Clarke had gotten it from. It. Indra wasn’t entirely sure what “it” was that Clarke had, but she knew “it” was what had captured the Heda. But still, this could not stand. She flicked her eyes to Ryder.

Ryder sighed, knowing Indra was right. “Skai Abby, she must face justice for her crimes. Attacking the Heda is punishable by death,” he hesitated when he saw Abby open her mouth and he quickly threw up both his hands, “She will have to be punished.” 

Nyko reached around Ryder and placed a hand gently on his bicep, squeezing while he held out his hand to Abby, “Punishment is required, but there is room for leniency. Heda understands that Clarke is ill, and in times of peace, Heda can be more,” he hesitated a moment and flicked his eyes at Ryder and then Indra as is asking them for the right word, “flexible. Sha, she can be flexible.”

Abby glared at Ryder and Indra, “Flexible? She can be flexible?!,” and Abby let out a bitter laugh, “she would deign to be flexible, when she broke our alliance and put all of these events in motion herself! And tell me, Ryder. Tell me, Indra, when exactly did the Betrayer face justice for what she did? She broke the alliance and left us to die! She left Clarke to die! Clarke! She left Clarke! So when did the Commander face her crimes?” Abby curled her hands into fists, she was a healer, but she would fight for Clarke, she would not back down and allow them to punish her. 

“She must be punished,” hissed Indra. 

“Punished?!” scoffed Abby, she gestured behind her towards Clarke, “she has already been punished. She committed genocide! When from the beginning it was her who argued to save the innocent, when she begged the Commander to allow her to spare them. She killed children, Indra!” Abby shook with anger and pain for her child. 

“She has been haunted ever since, slowly going mad. There-there are voices in her head screaming at her, pushing her, punishing her!” The tears flowed down Abby’s face and Indra’s sword wavered, and she stepped back a step. 

“She drank the poisoned wine also, Indra,” murmured Mordecai as she stepped forward, “her intent was to always die with Lexa.” Mordecai gazed at the blonde head that was resting on Lexa’s chest, one of Lexa’s hands was on her arm. 

She looked back up at Indra, “I think blood has been paid. I think the slates are wiped clean now. Heda knew what she was doing when she allowed this. You know this, Indra. Heda was never going to allow it to end in death. Heda may be ruthless, but she always thinks ahead.”

Indra glanced back up to Mordecai, not liking it, but she lowered her sword. While she believed the Skai girl deserved to be punished, she really did not want her dead. She did not want to deal with the uprising that would surely follow among the Skaikru. They gave her a constant headache, and were more trouble than they were worth, and her patience was thin. She thought briefly of Octavia. She knew it would crush the girl, and she did not want to be the one to do that, though she would never admit to it.

“I’m getting soft,” muttered Indra as she stepped back and sheathed her sword. She dared any of them to comment, and they all wisely looked away. She sighed, “Something must still be done.” 

They all started gesturing and arguing quietly, when a hoarse voice broke their disagreement. 

“Shof op. All of you.” Lexa coughed and opened her eyes. She looked into the relieved face of Clarke and she smiled. She reached up and gently caressed the face, feeling the sticky drying tears. She let her hand fall back to the furs. She was so weak! With Nyko’s help, she thought she had been prepared for the poison, but she hadn’t anticipated the price it would exact. She cursed under her breath, the antidote hadn’t been strong enough.

She turned her head and tried to stifle the gasp as she noticed how close they were all suddenly hovering around her. She growled, but it scratched her throat and she started coughing. She felt Clarke move quickly and place a mug of cool water against her lips. Abby helped her into a sitting position, and Lexa gratefully drank the water, wincing as it burned the raw flesh. 

She weakly gestured at them all, “No one is going to do anything,” she took a shuddering breath, willing her voice not to shake, “no one will speak of this. Ever. Do you understand?” She glared at the each in turn until they all bowed their heads and mumbled, “yes, Heda.”

Clarke wouldn’t look at her, the curtain of her hair covered her face and she twisted her fingers in her lap. Lexa felt the warmth of her body against her thigh and leg, and she tried to keep herself propped up with one hand as she reached out and slipped her other hand across Clarke’s restless fingers. She squeezed them gently, willing the blonde to look at her but she refused. 

She continued to stare at the blonde, “You hurt Clarke, and you hurt me. I will not show mercy to anyone who tries to harm her. Do you understand?” Still she stared at Clarke silently begging her to understand. She sighed when Clarke still refused to look at her, but she felt her chest ease, when the fingers squeezed her hand back, and the blonde tangled her fingers with hers. 

“Now leave. All of you. Back to your posts.” She heard them retreat and once they were gone, she slumped back against Abby, her fingers letting go of Clarke’s. She felt her eyes flutter close, and the last thing she heard before sleep claimed her was Abby’s voice, “She will be fine, Clarke. I promise. Everything will be fine.” 

************************************ 

Eventually Abby left with Nyko and then Malachi, and then Mordecai slipped from the tent like a wraith but not before giving Indra a significant look. Ryder stayed with Indra in the outer room, their voices providing a low, indistinct murmuring that was oddly comforting, but still Clarke didn’t pay much attention to them. 

She sat on the edge of the bed, one hand gently smoothing the hair from Lexa’s face, so gentle and young in sleep. She sighed, worried and unsure about what to do next. She gently traced her fingertips down the straight nose and down over plump lips. Her breath stuttered lightly though when she felt those lips part the tiniest bit against her fingertips. Her face flushed, and she remembered what it had felt like when Lexa had kissed her those long months ago. Despite everything, she had never quite been able to banish the kiss from her memories, and it had made her more than a little angry. But now, now she didn’t feel quite so angry when she thought about the kiss. Instead, the thought of the kiss eased warmed the cold in her chest, and started an ache of a different sort. She shook her head slightly, and gently traced along the sharp cheekbones. She really was quite beautiful, and Clarke searched her face looking for the child she had seen earlier. 

She had been so real, and she could have sworn that if she had just reached her hand out even farther, her fingertips would have scraped against hard leather and cold metal. She cupped Lexa’s face and strained to see the child, and for a moment she thought she saw a hint of her in the slightly parted lips and the curl of hair that fell across her cheek. Her eyes started to burn as she stared into Lexa’s face, her eyes rapidly flicking. She felt Lexa stir, and a frown furrow across her face. She sat back, realizing that Lexa might very well have felt the intensity of her gaze, and now was not the time to wake her. 

She leaned down and kissed her lightly on the cheek, gently shushing her. She was gratified when Lexa stopped stirring and with a gentle sigh fell back asleep. She turned her body slightly away from Lexa, feeling even more drained. She rested her elbows on her knees and let her head drop into her hands. Her stomach still roiled and her eyes burned. She wanted to laugh as she thought about the last 48 hours. But really she wanted to cry, but she worried that if she cried this time, she might never stop. 

She didn’t know what to feel. Happy that she had managed to save Lexa? Spiteful that she had managed to save Lexa? Afraid of what they would do to her? Angry? Yes, angry. She was always angry, and that hadn’t really changed. Forgiveness hadn’t come while she fought to make right her sins. Maybe she would never forgive Lexa, and maybe Lexa would never forgive her. She wasn’t even sure she wanted Lexa to forgive her, nor was she sure she wanted to forgive Lexa. 

She growled under her breath, because the truth was, Lexa would always make the same choice a hundred times over. And Clarke knew the truth, the truth she could no longer run from: she would have done the same. And it was time to live with the monster she was, and just accept that she was not a good guy. And neither was Lexa. There were no good guys. Maybe in a few more generations when they had moved beyond survival, there would be good guys, but right now: they were all just grounders trying to survive and maybe even live a little. 

**************************************** 

Clarke sighed and got up, deciding it was time to go back to her own tent. She knew Nyko and Indra would stay, and she wasn’t sure when Lexa would wake, wasn’t sure she wanted to be there for it. She didn’t know what to say, how to face her. She was still angry, and she needed time. 

But as she got up to leave the inner room, she finally focused on the low voices. She recognized Ryder and Indra, but there was another voice, a new voice that she thought she vaguely recognized. 

“They are beginning to arrive, Indra. Luna, Sebastian, and Kellan and their guards have arrived. They have already heard the rumblings in camp, and have asked to see Heda.” 

“No, you must tell them that Heda has already retired for the night, and they can see her later at the council.” 

“They are suspicious, Indra, and they are our closest allies.”

“Closest? Sebastian may be an ally, but no one ever knows what that wild one thinks. She is dangerous, Linus, do not underestimate her.” 

“Indra is right. Sebastian bears watching. They all do. We need to come to a decision soon, Indra. I don’t know if we can hide this from the clans. More will be arriving tomorrow. There have been rumblings for months now. They clans are questioning whether or not they need this coalition. Clarke’s attack on the Heda could destroy the coalition.” 

“Heda has given strict orders, no one is to mention what happened. The clans cannot know of the poison. And no one is to speak of the fight. I will personally cut out the tongue of anyone caught speaking of it. Is that understood?”

“Sha, Indra.”

“Sha, Indra.”

“Linus, you, Mordecai, and Malachi are to be alert, watch and listen. Report back to me what the warriors are saying. We need to know what the warriors are saying and what the clans are hearing.” 

“And what of the Skai Prisa?”

“The Skai Prisa? She will be dealt with. Punished. She makes Heda weak, and Heda knows it.”

“She cares for the Skai Prisa.” 

“She may care for her, but Heda will do what is right by her people. She has sacrificed before, she will do it again. Now go, both of you.” 

*********************************** 

Clarke stood there frozen for a moment as she heard the three of them leave the tent. Clans were arriving, and she wracked her brain trying to remember why they would be coming. And then she remembered Raven telling her of the festival in Polis. It must be time for the festival, but the clans were first stopping in Ton DC. But why? Had Lexa called them to Ton DC? Were the Skaikru expected to meet with them? Was the coalition really in danger and what did that mean for her people?

She sighed when she realized she didn’t have the answers to any of her questions. She should have though. As the leader of her people, and here she stopped and barked out a harsh laugh. Right some leader she was. She checked out a long time ago, abandoned her family and friends when they needed her most, and had been so hell-bent on her revenge that she had almost doomed them all. 

She turned and looked back at Lexa, uneasy when she realized that it really wasn’t over. The Trikru could still take their revenge out on her people. God, what had she done? But that tiny, simpering voice that she hated most of all reared its ugly head and hissed in her ear that it was all Lexa’s fault. If Lexa had just held the alliance, none of this would have happened. And as she quickly left Lexa’s tent, she felt a raw surge of anger and the pain in her head rallied and beat against the back of her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, 'cuz I know someone is going to question why the adrenaline didn't work (I'm looking at you R), it didn't work, because grounder physiology is a little different from the Arkers thanks to the radiation. It takes more "stuff" to affect them than it would an Arker. That and because I didn't want it to work. So yeah. 
> 
> 'Member how Mordecai sent Malachi to retrieve the package? Yeah, the package was Abby. Kudos if you had that figured out!
> 
> Thoughts?
> 
> Btw...remember how I said this story was done? I was wrong. It's going to be 25 chapters, maybe closer to 30.


	18. A Journal Changes Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to Rheaird_of_Life who gave me some great advice on this chapter and the following chapters. She helped me with fixing a plot line, and I’m incredibly grateful. Btw…check out her stories. You won't regret it!
> 
> Technically this journal would be written in Trigedasleng, and Clarke doesn’t understand enough to fully read this journal. I know it doesn’t quite work, but please just go with it. 
> 
> Oh and look...over 6,000 words!

Chapter 17: A Journal Changes Everything

**********************************

She stood in the middle of her tent. Angry, drained, broken. She had fixed it. Except she hadn’t, not really. Nothing had changed, except she was no longer willing to kill Lexa, but she thought she might still be willing to roll over and die. Simply lay down and stop breathing. Make the conscious decision to just stop. She wondered if she could do it, if she should. But she was too angry at the moment as she paced back and forth, her mind in shambles as she tried to make sense of both her thoughts and feelings.

But the more she paced, mumbling to herself, the more she couldn’t get away from the simple fact of what she had almost done to her people. She had endangered her people, almost destroying the alliance. Killing Lexa wouldn’t have just meant her death, it would have meant the death of all of her people. She had seen the unspoken truth in Mordecai’s eyes, and for the first time in months, she had seen clearly. Seen the price, the cost of her madness. 

Clarke laughed bitterly, frowning as it echoed in her tent. 

“I can’t forgive her. She still left us to die. Left me to die,” she muttered as she paced in her tent. She scrubbed at her face, ignoring the pain from the healing cut on her forehead. Compliments of Peter Cottontail. 

“She left me to die. How could she,” her voice broke and she slumped down on the floor next to the chest. 

“Didn’t she lo-didn’t she care? How could she?!” Angry tears slipped down her cheeks, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away. She sat there feeling the cold seep into the tent, and she rubbed her bare arms realizing quickly that she had left the leather jacket in Lexa’s tent. 

“Damn. Damn. Damn.” She slammed her foot on the floor, too worried about what would happen if she returned to the tent. She was sure Indra would finally lose what little restraint she had and simply run her through with her sword. 

“Shof op, Clarke. Just shut up!” She growled at herself infuriated as the tears continued to slip down her face. Her shoulders shook, but she didn’t know if it was from sorrow or anger, maybe both. She was so done with carrying the dead with her, so done with carrying Lexa with her. She wanted to be free. 

She reached over to the trunk and wrenched it open, grabbing the box and slamming it into her lap. She wanted to hurl it across the room, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. So instead she opened the lid and stared at the name inside. 

She didn’t want to think about a young Heda training with Anya, always covered in cuts and bruises, with armor too large for her slight frame, and her destiny too big for one so young. She didn’t want to imagine ancient eyes staring out of a thin face with high cheekbones. She didn’t want to imagine the tears that must have made her eyes shine like broken jade. 

She traced the name with one fingertip, imagining an angry, burdened child carving her name into the lid, wanting to make sure that she, Lexa wasn’t forgotten, that something of her still existed in Heda, beyond Heda. That Heda would not be her end. That a bloody sword would not be her fate. But Clarke knew differently, knew that the child had always known her end, but had still defiantly and hopefully carved her name into the lid. 

Her name was Alexandria. “Alexandria.” She said it again, tasting it on her lips, letting her tongue slide around the syllables, caressing each one. She rolled it around in her mouth, refusing to let go.

“Alexandria. Alexandria. Alexandria,” she whispered it over and over again, letting it roll from her tongue, no longer just an empty word, but something else, something that felt a lot like hope, like possibility, like kisses and wishes upon a star. 

She pulled the journal out, opening it carefully and began to read. 

******************************** 

Journal Entry 1: Lexa is 7 

Nomon gave me this buk to wrote ain thinks in. Help me with my words. 

Journal Entry 10: Lexa is 8 

Nontu says I can be a tila like him when I get big. I will help grow food, so our people will have full bellies during the Winter’s Breath. Nomon says that I can be a tinka like her. I can fix things for other people. Maybe I can be both. 

Journal Entry 19: Lexa is 8 

Village burned, many goufas died. I could hear Nontu and Nomon talking about it. They thought I was asleep. They think it was the Ice Nation and maybe the Desert Clan. But the village was far away. Tomorrow Nontu and I are going to the fields to plant. 

Journal Entry 23: Lexa is 9 

I met a girl today. Her name is Costia. She is so pretty. And she is older than me. I hope she will be my friend.

Journal Entry 24: Lexa is 9 

I saw Costia again today, and she smiled at me. She is going to be a Fisa. But I am going to be a Tila like Nontu. She is so pretty. Her eyes sparkle when she laughs. I want to make her laugh. She is my friend. 

Journal Entry 30: Lexa is 9 

Costia and I went to the waterfall today. We jumped off the rocks, and it was so cold! I splashed her with water, and then she dunked me! But I let her. She told me about the new babies born in the village, and I told her about the new plants that Nontu and I planted last week. Nontu is really excited about the plants, he said that a lot of fruit grows on just one plant. He said he helped make the plants from other plants. I’m not sure what he meant, but he let me name them. I call them squatos. If we can grow more, our village won’t have to worry about having enough food for Winter’s Breath. 

Journal Entry 31: Lexa is 10 

I planted some blu hyageanas today. Nontu bought the seeds from a peddler who came up from the South. The peddler had a long beard, and he laughed a lot. He showed me a drawing of the hyageanas, and they are so beautiful. They are huge, and I think Costia will like them. I begged Nontu to buy some, and he said he would because I had worked so hard with him in the fields. 

I am going to plant them and when they grow, I will give them to Costia. 

Journal Entry 36 Lexa is 10 

I gave Costia the blu hyageanas, and she kissed me! She kissed me on the cheek! Her lips were so soft, and I wanted to kiss her back. But I don’t know. I wanted to kiss her on her lips, the way Nontu and Nomon kiss. I’m not sure what that means. 

Journal Entry 41: Lexa is 10 

Nomon and Nontu are worried. They keep looking at me when they think I’m not looking. They stop talking when I enter the room. I think it has something to do with the warriors from the capitol. They showed up a couple weeks ago. They stayed a couple of days talking to people. A warrior named Gustus watched me while I helped Nontu in the fields. I asked Nontu who he was, and he said not to worry about it. 

But when I went to get water later, he was there at the well. He is so big! And he has tattoos on his face. He looks like a great warrior, but his eyes seemed kind. He asked me how old I was. He asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, and I told him, I want to be a tila like my Nontu. He looked sad when I told him that, and he gave me a small smile, and then he touched me on the shoulder, and said; “Sometimes we have to give up our dreams, so others’ dreams can survive.” Then he smiled at me again and walked away.

I’m not sure what he meant.

They left after that, but they returned 3 days ago, and this time there were more warriors, and they all have been watching me; and talking to me. I don’t really understand why they are interested in me. 

Journal Entry 42 Lexa is 10

I am to go to Polis, the capitol! I don’t want to go. I will have to leave my Nontu and Nomon, and Costia. I’m told I have to. 

I heard Nomon arguing with the warrior Gustus. He said I had been called, and I was to be a seken, a warrior. But I want to be a tila!

Journal Entry 43 Lexa is 10

Costia cried when I left. She kissed me on the cheek and told me to never forget that I am her Alexandria, her Lexa. I didn’t cry. Warriors aren’t supposed to cry. That is what Gustus said. But I want to cry. 

Journal Entry 44 Lexa is 10

I’m in Polis. It is so big. There is so much to see! There are so many colors, and it is loud. I miss my village. 

There is an older girl, a warrior. Her name is Anya. I am to be her Seken, her second. It is like an apprentice. Like how I was learning to be a tila, but now I am to be a warrior. I don’t want to be a warrior. I just want to go home. I want to be with Costia. 

They gave me armor. It is made of leather and metal. It is very heavy. Too heavy. It makes my shoulders ache. It is too big for me, and I don’t like how it rubs against my skin. Gustus said I will grow into it. I’m not sure I want to grow into it. I think this armor has already seen many battles. 

Anya gave me a sword, but it is very heavy, and I can’t swing it very well. She said it is Heda’s sword, but I am not strong enough yet to use it. The sword is strange. I don’t like it. It doesn’t look right. Sometimes when the light hits the blade, it looks almost red. I asked Anya why, and she just shook her head at me. 

Anya has given me smaller swords to practice with. She uses a practice sword too. It isn’t sharp, but it still hurts when she strikes me with it. Every night I go to bed with bruises, and every morning I wake up with bruises. Everything hurts. And I just want to go home. 

************************************** 

“Oh Lexa,” whispered Clarke. She closed her eyes briefly, and she saw the child Heda again. Her head down, her hair in simple braids, shoulders slumped under the too big armor, her tiny fist wrapped around the handle of a sword too long, too heavy, too red.

Her chest ached, and she wished she could touch her, wrap her arms around the frightened, bruised child. But with a sigh she was gone, and Clarke wasn’t sure she had ever been there. 

************************************** 

Journal Entry 47 Lexa is 11

I am finally home for a visit! I haven’t seen Nontu or Nomon in many months. I have been training very hard. Anya is very harsh with me. She wakes me up before the sun rises, and she makes me run, and she makes me fight. I’m finally getting used to the bruises. But she knocks me down a lot, and sometimes I bleed. She told me I can’t cry. And I don’t, not after the first time. I didn’t even cry when I broke my collarbone. Anya looked proud when I didn’t cry. She is a great warrior. 

I am learning to speak and write English. I don’t particularly like it, but all warriors must learn. 

Costia is taller. She threw her arms around me and hugged me tight. And we snuck out and went to the waterfall, we jumped off the rocks again and swam. Her shirt was all wet, and it clung to her chest. She isn’t flat anymore. She has breasts, and I felt funny when I looked at her. My stomach felt hot, and my chest tight. I wanted her to hug me again. I wanted…well, I don’t know what I wanted. I just want something. 

Anya was very mad when we got back. She dragged me outside and yelled at me that I don’t have time to be running away and swimming that I have to be stronger, harder, better. She shoved me to the ground and told me to never sneak off again. Then she stomped off. When I asked Gustus why she was so mad, he smiled a little and said that she wasn’t mad at me. She is mad that she has to prepare me. When I asked him what for, he just shook his head. But he looked sad again. 

Journal Entry 50 Lexa is 12

Nontu and Nomon are dead. 

Journal Entry 53 Lexa is 12

I’ve been called for the trials. Anya looks worried. So does Gustus. They believe the spirit of our Heda is in me, but now I must prove myself. Anya has been training me harder and harder, pushing me. She is always pushing me. Gustus and Anya both keep teaching me strategy, telling me I must know my enemy. Gustus says my greatest enemy might be myself. I’m not sure what he means.

But I’m so tired. I’m afraid. But I dare not tell either of them. 

Journal Entry 55 Lexa is 12

We are on our way to Thews Hil in Bul Ru. It is a burned out village in the hollow of a mountain. It is always foggy there. They say ghosts and monsters live in the fog and in the trees. They say ghosts were there long before the bombs dropped. They say that men burned alive during an ancient war that no one remembers. It is haunted, and evil lurks on the burned out ground. The trees are like skeletons, creaking in the still air. Nothing grows here. 

The trials will take place here. Anya told me I am strong, the strongest she has ever met. Gustus says that I will have to make hard decisions, but to remember that whatever I choose, it should always be for the good of our people. It is my duty to protect our people, to give them a better future. I’m afraid. I shouldn’t be, but I am. I have heard whispers of bad things happening in the trials. But neither Gustus nor Anya will tell me what is going to happen. 

I’m not brave. 

I saw blu hyrageanas today. 

Journal Entry 57 Lexa is 12

I am Heda. They gave me three marks under my collarbone. I am no longer afraid.

Anya says it took over 70 stitches to put me back together. She says I was lost in the darkness of my own mind for five days. 

The Fisa scrubbed my burns with salt, and I think I screamed. I don’t remember much from after the trials. Just that I burned and bled. It hurt. It still hurts. I don’t think it will ever stop hurting.

****************************** 

Clarke shuddered as she reread the entries, her heart clenching at the thought of the injuries a young Lexa must have suffered. Her brow furrowed as she contemplated what the three marks meant. She knew that tattoos were important to the grounders and commemorated important moments in their lives, so she knew that these marks must have meant something.

She traced the words on the page, and with a sinking heart, realized exactly what it meant. Three marks, just like the grounder whose throat she had slit. Lexa killed three people during the trials. And she didn’t want to think about the fact that those people had also probably also been children.

****************************** 

Journal Entry 58 Lexa is 12

I can’t sleep. There are so many dead. I keep seeing the boy. He is afraid. He was afraid when I cut him, when I bled him. He was not strong enough to be Heda. He is still afraid. And the girl. The girl who begged. She begged. But now, she begs no more.

Journal 59 Lexa is 13

I still can’t sleep. I told Anya about the ghosts. She put her hand on my head and pulled me into her and held me for a moment. I think she whispered “I’m sorry.” But I’m not sure. She has never hugged me before. Then she gently pushed me away and told me to pick up my sword. I have to be stronger. I have to be better. I have to be harder.

Journal Entry 61 Lexa is 15

It has been a long time since I picked up this journal. I’m not sure there is a point to writing in it, but Gustus found it and made it a point of giving it to me rather than putting it back where he found it. He didn’t say anything. I’m not sure if he read it or not. But I think it is ok if he did. I trust him with my life, so I know I can trust him with my words. 

The clans are at war again. I say again, but it never ends. The Horse clan is fighting with the Plains Clan over pasture rights. There is enough pasture for all of them, but they fight anyway. Gustus says it is because it is all they know. Anya says it is because they are branwadas. 

The mountain men are still taking our people, and then they send monsters to take more of our warriors. Monsters!

They are creating monsters that eat human flesh, and the clans are too busy bickering and fighting each other to drive out the mountain men. 

Journal Entry 62 Lexa is 15

I saw Costia. I haven’t seen her in years. She is a Fisa, and she was in a tent with my wounded warriors who have been skirmishing with the Wolf Clan. There was so much blood, the very air was speckled with it. She was covered in it. She was cutting off one of my warrior’s legs. He was screaming and begging her not to. But she did it anyway. He is not strong enough to be one of my warriors. I will return him to Polis, and maybe he can become a fisherman instead. 

I envy him.

After it was over, she saw me. I could see she was surprised. She knows I am Heda, but I don’t think she really knew I was Heda, with the armor and sash, and war paint. With the blood. 

The blood stains me to the bone.

She bowed her head to me and said, “Heda.” It hurt. It shouldn’t have hurt, because I am her Heda. But once…once upon a time, I was her Lexa.

I wish I was still her Lexa. 

Journal Entry 64 Lexa is 15

I have been on the road for weeks visiting the burned villages, bringing in supplies to help the refugees. The war is pushing at Trikru borders. The clans are all fighting amongst themselves, and thankfully the Trikru have a large army, so most of the clans aren’t a threat. But some of the clans don’t seem like they really want to be fighting. They have tried to stay out of the war. The Boat Clan, the Island Clan, and the Stone Clan are all more peaceful by nature. I am going to meet with them. Maybe they will see reason. It is time to stop fighting. The Mountain Men are taking our people still and creating more and more reapers. 

We need to join together or we will not survive. 

Journal Entry 65 Lexa is 15

Costia kissed me! She kissed me! I felt like…I don’t know what, but my stomach tumbled, and my hands shook. It was weak of me. I told Anya that she kissed me, and that I saw lights. Anya laughed at me, but I don’t care. 

***************************** 

Clarke smiled at the thought of an exuberant Lexa falling in love. She wondered what she had been like, before she had been forced to wage wars and before she had lost Costia. 

***************************** 

Journal Entry 67 Lexa is 16

Costia and I fought today. It was bad. I was so angry. We were kissing again, and I wanted to touch her, but I was nervous and I fumbled when I tried to slide my hands under her shirt. They were shaking, and my heart was pounding so hard in my chest. She pulled on my braids and laughed. She said I was like an over-eager boy fumbling around. I asked her what she meant, and she just laughed and kissed me on the cheek, but I asked her again about what boys were touching her, and she didn’t answer. I got mad and told her that no one was allowed to touch her. Only me! So she got mad and yelled at me that she doesn’t belong to me, and she can do whatever she wants. 

No one is allowed to touch Costia. I will kill any boy or girl who touches her! She is mine! She has to be mine. 

She is all I have left. 

Journal Entry 68 Lexa is 16

Costia still won’t speak to me, but I have to go meet with the Boat, Island, and Stone Clans. I am also going to meet with the Horse Clan. Their general is hot-headed, but he lost a lot of warriors. He may listen to reason now. 

Journal Entry 70 Lexa is 16

The Boat, Island, Stone, and Horse Clan have agreed to an alliance with the Trikru! Finally! It is the beginning. I am going to unite all of the clans into one coalition to fight the mountain men and bring back our people. But the other clans will be harder to convince. They have big armies, and they will fight me. 

Gustus says I am ready. 

Journal Entry 71 Lexa is 16

I gave Costia some purple flowers today. She kissed me, and I was so relieved. I hate it when she is angry at me, or when I have made her sad. She asked me if I understand that she doesn’t belong to me. But I am Heda, and I want Costia. She should be mine, and I should be hers. 

Journal Entry 72 Lexa is 16

I told Costia that I want to be hers, that I don’t want anyone else to touch her, only me. And no one else will touch me but her. She smiled at me and wrapped her arms around me. I always feel better when I am with her. Like it doesn’t matter that I am Heda. 

Journal Entry 73 Lexa is 16

I was with Costia last night. She is so beautiful. And I was so nervous, but she felt so right when I touched her, and I begged her like a child when she touched me. I couldn’t help it. She made me weak. She made me fly. 

Journal Entry 74 Lexa is 16

Anya told me that I am spending too much time with Costia that she is a distraction. I told Anya that I was going to make Costia my houmon. That she was mine. Anya growled at me and told me that no one belongs to Heda, and Hedas are forbidden from having houmons or goufas. 

I was so mad and I told her to leave me and not come back. I am her Heda so she has to listen to me, but she glared at me and told me that I would one day regret loving Costia. Never!

I don’t care what Anya says. I will make Costia my houmon, and I will give her all of the goufas she wants. I will. I can’t not have her. She makes it easier to be Heda. I breathe easier when I’m with her. 

********************************* 

Clarke sighed, conflicted if she should keep reading. She knew it shouldn’t, but it pained her to read about Lexa’s love for Costia. It was here in black and white, how much Lexa had loved Costia. And she foolishly wondered for a moment if Lexa would ever love her as much as she had Costia. 

She was happy that Lexa had once had love, but it was bittersweet knowing what Lexa had lost. Knowing what she stood to lose. 

********************************** 

Journal Entry 75 Lexa is 16

Gustus told me today that no one belongs to Heda, that Heda belongs to the people. He has obviously been talking to Anya. 

It is Heda’s, my duty, to always put my people first, before myself, before Costia, before everyone else. He says that Costia is my weakness, she will be my undoing. He looked so sad when he said it. 

I love Costia, and I will protect her. 

Journal Entry 77 Lexa is 17

The Ice Nation has attacked more villages on the outskirts of Trikru territory. They are determined to march to Polis, but instead we will soon march and take the war to them. The Plains and Giant Clans have also joined my alliance. But the Wolf Clan and Blood Clan have joined with the Ice Nation. They are vicious and only understand steel and blood. They do not heed my words, so I will have to make them listen with my blade. 

I was surprised the Giant Clans joined. They are outcasts, because of their deformities. They have not kept their lines pure, but I told promised them autonomy. That they would choose their own blood lines.

Journal Entry 78 Lexa is 18

The Ice Queen has taken Costia. Because she was mine.

Journal Entry 79 Lexa is 18

The Ice Queen sent me Costia’s head. 

Journal Entry 80 Lexa is 18

I burned Costia today. Her fight is over. I didn’t cry. But I sent my armies North. I will lay waste to all that stand in my way. The Ice Nation doesn’t believe me strong enough to ally the clans, to lead. They will know now how strong I am. They will know my vengeance, and I will wet my blade with their Queen’s blood.

Journal Entry 81 Lexa is 19

Costia has been gone for four months. The war with the Ice Nation continues. I’m not sure it will ever end. I’m not sure I want it to end, not until I’ve laid Costia to rest. I can only do that with the Queen’s death. I will put her head on a pike. 

Journal Entry 82 Lexa is 19

I can’t sleep. Costia woke me. She was standing in my tent, simply staring at me. She was wearing a gown, her favorite blue gown that I had the best tailors in Polis make especially for her. There were splashes of red on it, like gaping wounds in the fabric. But it was the hem of her gown, it was burned, ashen and gray. I tried to speak to her, but she just turned and walked out of my tent. I followed her, calling for her, reaching for her, but she was always just out of reach. We walked and walked, or maybe we flew. I didn’t feel the miles pass, but I know it was miles. Because she suddenly stopped. And I blinked, and when I opened my eyes again in that split moment, she was standing in the middle of a smoldering village. There were bodies. Many bodies, burnt, turned to ash. There were little fires still whining in the stark, broken bones. Her gown was burning, and I could smell the stench of the fabric, and I coughed and begged her to answer me. And then…I was back in my tent standing in the middle of the outer room. 

Costia is gone. She would not come when I called. 

She was standing in what was left of Primus. I burned the Ice Nation village two days ago. 

I am afraid that my rage knows no bounds. 

I am afraid that I do not care. 

******************************** 

Clarke let the journal fall back into her lap as the tears coursed down her eyes. “Oh Lexa,” and she pulled her knees up to her face, and put her head on her knees. She covered her head with her arms and cried for Lexa and Costia. And she cried for herself. And with each tear, a small part of her anger washed away. Her tears finally slowed, and she wiped her face, grimacing at the sticky residue left behind. She took a shaky breath and picked the journal back up again. 

******************************** 

Journal Entry 84 Lexa is 19

I have brought the Wolves to heel, and I have tasted the blood of the Blood clan. I made them all bleed and howl. I brought them to their knees, and then I offered them a place in my coalition. They were smart enough to accept.

The Ice Nation will receive no such mercy from me. 

Journal Entry 85 Lexa is 20

The Ice Queen sent a parlay. She will join the alliance if I withdraw my armies. She has lost too much to me. I have painted her lands with blood, all in Costia’s name. 

Journal Entry 86 Lexa is 20

I have given up my right to vengeance against the Ice Queen for the sake of my people. Continuing my vengeance is not in my people’s best interests. I do this for them.

I made the Queen swear fealty. I made her bend her knee, and she smirked at me. She knows how badly I wanted to tear her head from her shoulders with my bare hands.

Journal Entry 87 Lexa is 20. 

It is done. The twelve clans have all fallen in line. I rule them all. And now we take our war to the Mountain Men. 

I miss you, Costia. 

Journal Entry 88 Lexa is 21

A burning star fell to the ground tonight. I have sent scouts, because it is unlike any star I have ever seen. Something itches in the back of my throat. The wind has changed course. 

Journal Entry 89 Lexa is 21

She is beautiful and fierce. A leader and warrior, although I think she wishes she weren’t. They say she is also a healer, but she burned 300 of my warriors. She is a formidable enemy.

Journal Entry 90 Lexa is 21

Anya is dead. She brought me her braid. She knew it was important, and she brought it to me. Perhaps she is not my enemy.

Journal Entry 91 Lexa is 21

She is a raging, burning star. She begged for an alliance, she claimed she could turn monsters back into men. And she can. She made Linkon a man again. But I made her give me the assassin. She begged me to take her instead. But he owes us the pain of 18 deaths.

I wish I could have given her what she wanted. I don’t know what it is about this Skai Prisa, this Skai Heda that made me falter that made me want to give in to her. I think she is dangerous. 

She killed the boy. For the alliance. To spare him the suffering. She is a worthy leader. She is stronger than she knows, but she is dangerous. 

She makes me feel. I feel again. 

I wish Anya were here. 

Journal Entry 92 Lexa is 21

Gustus is dead. He betrayed me, and I slid the sword into his heart. Damn him! I still needed him. I need him. I can’t do this without him. I can’t afford to break now. I must be strong. 

What will I do? 

Journal Entry 93 Lexa is 21

She is brilliant. Our army is already inside of the mountain! Why didn’t I think of that! 

They listen to her. The Skaikru. But even my warriors listen to her. 

She wrapped my arm when we were caught by the Pauna. She is very brave, and she did not leave me even though I told her to. Ugh. I sound like a goufa. But she makes me feel things that I haven’t felt since Costia. I am unsettled, and my skin burns when she looks at me. 

My fingers twitch when she is near, and I want to touch her, to run my fingers along her skin, paint shadows across her ribs. 

Indra knows. I will cut out her tongue if she says anything. 

What am I going to do about Clarke? 

*********************************** 

Clarke couldn’t help but smile a little as she read about Lexa’s obvious confusion regarding her feelings for Clarke. She felt her cheeks warm when she imagined for a moment what it would feel like if Lexa did run her strong fingers across her skin, if she did paint shadows across her ribs. She felt a little shiver dance down her spine, and she shook it off, and with a small smile started reading again.

***********************************

Journal Entry 94 Lexa is 21

I have been teaching Clarke to ride a horse. At first I thought she was hopeless, but she eventually figured it out. She sits the saddle well, and I can tell she has fallen in love with them. She was born among the stars, and she shines brighter than any of them, but the ground suits her better.

Journal Entry 95 Lexa is 21

I gifted Clarke with the three year old foal from my war horse. She is solid white, and I trained her by hand from the day she was born. The foal’s mother was a gift from Costia, and she has never failed me in battle. Her foal will not fail Clarke in battle.

I don’t think I have ever seen Clarke smile so big. Her eyes sparkled and her smile was…well, it was beautiful, and I couldn’t help but smile back at her. My stomach fluttered, I felt that old heat I haven’t felt in years. Not since Costia. 

I wonder if Costia would understand? If she would be happy that I feel again, that I want again. I think she would have liked Clarke. They are both healers, both strong women. Sha, my Costia would have liked my Clarke, and she her. 

My Clarke. 

I do not know how to make her mine. 

*************************************** 

Clarke felt warmth in her belly as she read the words, “My Clarke.” Was that how Lexa had imagined her? Had wanted Clarke to be hers? It occurred to her that she should probably be a little irritated at the thought of Lexa laying claim to her, but the thought of being Lexa’s simply made the heat in her belly grow. 

“Well Lexa, I can’t be yours, unless you are also mine,” she whispered in the empty tent. She smiled a little, but then her smile dimmed; as she wondered just how much Lexa had written. If she had written about the mountain.

******************************** 

Journal Entry 96 Lexa is 21

She named her Starwood. When I asked her why, she said because her coat reminded her of the pale gleam of the stars, but she was also of the forest, of the Trikru. She said Starwood was of both of us. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t say anything. My mouth was so dry, I just stared at her like a branwada. So I said nothing, and Clarke just kind of shrugged and blushed a little. 

She is so beautiful. So strong. So determined. And when she smiles, my stomach flips, and I want to smile back at her. I want to touch her. I want to love her. 

I wish Gustus was here, and Anya. I don’t know what to do about Clarke. She makes me feel hope again, and I can’t afford to feel for her. I think about her when I should be concentrating on my generals’ words. And sometimes, at night, I dream of her. When I once dreamed of Costia, now I see Clarke in my dreams. 

I want to make her mine, but my people need me. I am afraid that she makes me weak. I can’t afford to be weak. Can I?

***************************** 

She wants to love me? Does she still want to love me? Can she love me? Will she love me? Do I love her? “Ugh, stop, Clarke.” And Clarke shook her head, trying to clear it of her racing thoughts. 

*****************************

Journal Entry 98 Lexa is 21

The mountain bombed Ton DC. There are so many dead. My people. I sacrificed my people in order to ensure that Bellamy would not be found. I sacrificed them to bring down the mountain once and for all. It was the right choice. But it will haunt me forever. I can never bleed enough to atone for what and who I have sacrificed. I am so tired of sacrifice.

Starwood is dead.

She killed the soldier.

The Skai Prisa’s eyes don’t shine as bright now. 

My heart hurts. For her. 

*********************************** 

Clarke felt the tears fill her eyes again at the thought of Starwood. She had only had her a couple of days, but she had fallen madly in love with the beautiful gentle horse. She had felt her heart crack when she had seen Starwood pounding down the path in terror away from Ton DC, her tail on fire. She had wanted to follow her, but she couldn’t. She had to help her people. Monroe and one of her Trikru friends had eventually tracked Starwood down. And when they had returned, Monroe had simply sadly shaken her head. 

She realized she had never wept for Starwood, there hadn’t been time, and with so many dead and wounded; it didn’t seem right to weep over a horse. But now she felt the ache in her heart, and the tears dripped down her face. She sighed and wiped them away, unsure she wanted to continue reading. 

*********************************** 

Journal Entry 99 Lexa is 21

I kissed her. I knew I wanted to, but I didn’t think I would have the courage to do so. My nights have been so dark for so long, and I am always restless and bitter. I feel caged and broken, but when I kissed her….

When I kissed her I felt free. 

But I could never make her my houmon. I can’t give her goufas. Even if I could, I will not live that long. 

But I can’t help but want her. I am weak for her. And she will be my undoing, but I cannot allow her to be my people’s undoing. 

I feel alive when I am with her. Free. 

I love her. 

I love you, Klark.

Journal Entry 100 Lexa is 21

I left her at the mountain. I abandoned her. I ruined her. I killed her. 

I am waiting for her ghost to come to my tent. For surely she will haunt me for the last of my bitter, broken days. Never have I hated my people, have I resented them. Until now. The laughter and joy of my people are vicious blades that pierce me and damn me. 

I am unworthy of being Heda. I am tired of being Heda. Tonight, I am broken, and I weep for her. Tomorrow I will be Heda again. Tomorrow I will be the rock they need me to be. It is all I can be, all I will ever be. And I will die and be reborn. I will carry her with me into the next life. Always. I will always carry her.

I’m sorry, Klark. 

*****************************************

“Fuck you, Lexa,” she whispered as she choked on the tears, her throat tight and raw. And she desperately tried to hold on to her anger, but even as she tried to, she knew she no longer wanted to be angry. “Why, Lexa? Why did you leave me? And why does it still hurt so much?” She heaved herself off the floor still holding the journal and crawled up on the bed. “I could have loved you, Lexa.”

She sniffed and her eyes grew heavy. “I still love you, Lexa.”

***************************************** 

The hours slipped by and night waned, giving up her throne to the burgeoning dawn, and the blonde lay on her bed curled up with the journal in her arms, dried tear tracks on her face, a small, worried smile upon her lips. 

And she slept. And she dreamed of a child Heda with wet green eyes, dressed in leather and metal with war paint across her face and a dripping sword in her hand. And the voices gave up their herald.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thoughts? I hope the journal wasn't too boring. While I believe Lexa is educated, I don't think she would be particularly eloquent in her writing, hence the reason some of the journal is a little choppy. Hope you enjoyed the glimpse into a young Lexa's life.


	19. Chapter 18: The Doll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Lordofdeathn, the Prince of Angst, who originally asked for a scene depicting Clarke finding the doll; and for Tipsy2, who also really likes the doll. Hope this doesn't disappoint. 
> 
> R, Lexa brushed her teeth just for you!
> 
> Enjoy the Clexa fluff and kisses. Naturally i'm gonna make you wade through a little bit of angst first! On with the show! Er...chapter!

Chapter 18: The Doll

Lexa woke slowly, blinking against the light filtering through the thin walls of her tent. Her throat was dry, and her lips slightly cracked. She was thirsty but alive, strangely alive, and the pain no longer clawed at her, just throbbed dully in her muscles. 

She really didn’t want to get up, and despite what she had said last night, she knew she had to deal with the aftermath of what had happened. She needed to hear Indra and Mordecai’s reports. She could only hope that no one else knew about what happened aside from those who had been in her tent last night. As it was, she wasn’t sure how she was going to handle the aftermath. 

She threw an arm over her eyes trying to block out the incoming light. Her mind was still sluggish, and she slowly replayed the events over in her mind: the resigned, broken pain in Clarke’s eyes when Lexa had drunk the poisoned the wine; the frantic look of fear and dismay stamped across her face as she forced her way into the tent muttering “I can fix this,” over and over again. 

She sighed and slowly sat up, trying to bite back the groan as her abused muscles screamed at her. She wasn’t entirely successful, and she heard movement in the outer tent, and could only hope whomever it was hadn’t heard her. 

She managed to get to her feet, taking deep breaths and trying to ignore the wave of dizziness. “Perfect. I’m as weak as a goufa,” she muttered to no one in particular. She heaved herself out of bed and washed the dried sweat off her skin, but her movements were slow and labored, and she found herself having to stop every few minutes to take a deep breath and try to relax her aching muscles. So she was more than a little irritated by the time she opened the small pouch of wintergreen leaves that the Trikru used to clean their mouths. She chomped viciously on the leaves, relishing the cool mint flavor that hit her tongue. She scraped the crushed leaves across her teeth and then rinsed her mouth repeatedly, finally happy that she had washed away the stale vomit. She managed to get herself dressed, foregoing her armor for the time being. 

She was surprised to see the blue leather jacket in the corner of the small room. She gingerly picked it up and lifted it to her nose, inhaling deeply. She could smell the warm leather, but underneath it lurked another scent, and it tickled her insides as she inhaled deeply again. It smelled of sunshine, and she smiled. 

“Klark,” she whispered, and she didn’t bother to fight the smile that erupted across her face. She felt almost giddy as flashes of memory from the night before replayed in her mind again. She remembered flashes of blue from the night before, and realized that the blonde had been wearing it when she had come back to Lexa’s tent to help her, to save her. 

She remembered the hope she had felt when she had seen it. It had fit her perfectly. It was a good jacket, and was made to be worn by Clarke. Without her wearing it, the jacket was dull and bland, but when she wore it, it shined and almost glowed. She smiled again and wrapped both arms around it and stepped into the outer room, momentarily forgetting that someone else was in the tent. 

********************************** 

Clarke stood up abruptly from where she was crouched next to Lexa’s throne. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she was surprised that her body wasn’t shuddering under the onslaught of each bone jarring thud. She felt her stomach lurch when she saw Lexa slowly enter the outer room, her head down, and her face buried in…her jacket? Was she smelling it? She almost smiled. She looked adorable. She looked so young, vaguely reminiscent of the young girl in love all those years ago. Her hair was tumbling down her shoulders, her toned arms clutching the jacket to her chest. She was barefoot. She seemed so young, so vulnerable, and Clarke felt a twinge of pain in her heart at the sight.

“Hai Lexa,” she gestured weakly at Lexa while her eyes skittered away from the surprised look on the girl’s face.

“Hai Klark.” Lexa hesitated, all too aware that she was still clutching Clarke’s jacket as if it were a talisman or even lifeline. She shifted slightly, unsure what to say. She didn’t want to ask the blonde what she was doing in her tent. She was afraid it would sound accusatory, and she didn’t want to send her running. 

“Are you well, Klark?” Lexa eyed the blonde who still wouldn’t meet her eyes, and seemed intent on ignoring her for the moment. She bit back a sigh, and readied herself to forge ahead and batter at the walls the blonde had thrown up once again, despite how exhausted she was. But she was taken slightly by surprise when Clarke suddenly spoke.

“I read your journal. Well, not all of it, but most of it. I-I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to. But if you didn’t want me to, you wouldn’t have left if for me, right? So you must have wanted me to read it.” Clarke stumbled over her words, in a hurry to spit them all out before Lexa could say anything. And then she waited, but Lexa just looked at her, not saying anything. She was still clutching Clarke’s jacket, and she didn’t seem in any hurry to give it back. 

“So, you wanted to be a tila?” 

Lexa felt a momentary flash of pain as she remembered the years she spent with her father in the fields, learning his trade, his craft, his way of life. She had been good at tilling the soil and nurturing plants and trees. She had exulted in the dark, rich earth that imbedded itself in the whirls of her fingers and under her nails. It was all she had wanted to be as a child. All she had ever wanted until Costia, and then after Costia, she had simply wanted her people to survive. Until Clarke. And then she had realized she wanted to do more than survive. She wanted to live. She wanted to live within each breath the Skai Prisa took. 

She was slightly shaken realizing Clarke had read the journal. She had hoped that at some point she would, hoped it would help Clarke see beyond Heda, but now that she knew she had read it… She wondered if she had read all of it, and she felt vulnerable and naked standing there clutching Clarke’s jacket, unable to meet her eyes. She felt weak. She wanted to snap at Clarke, pull her armor tightly against her and wipe the paint across her eyes. She wanted to be Heda in this moment, cold and withdrawn, but here in this tent, she was Lexa. And it was time to face her sins. Time to face Clarke. 

“Sha. A farmer, like my father.” Lexa walked closer to Clark until she was only a couple feet away. She noted the tear stained face, and the hair in complete disarray. Her clothes were wrinkled, and she had obviously slept in them, but she didn’t look as tired as before. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she noticed Clarke’s left fist tightly clenched. She seemed to be holding something. She flicked her eyes over to her coat that was less than a foot away. Could she have found it? 

Lexa stared carefully into Clarke’s blue eyes, searching for something, anything that would tell her the blonde’s state of mind. She seemed calmer, but she couldn’t find what she was looking for, behind the wall of blue. 

“You were young when they died.” Clarke wasn’t sure why she was bothering to state the obvious, but she didn’t know what else to say, wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened. 

“Sha. They were killed by raiders.” Lexa sighed and walked around the blonde, gently setting the leather jacket on her throne, her fingers lingered along the smooth leather, and she didn’t want to let it go. But she turned and faced the blonde again, noting the sad look on her face. 

“It was a long time ago, Klark,” she shrugged and walked over to the table where there was food set out. She grabbed some bread and cheese and turned back around and held it out to Clarke. “Eat, Klark.” She chose some fruit for herself and slumped down into the chair. 

Clarke took the bread and cheese and cocked her head carefully at Lexa. She had said her name differently. She had stressed the “C” in her name, and then sort of rolled the rest of her name. It was different, and for some reason it made her feel warm. She would ask her about it later, but for now…for now she would simply sit and eat with Lexa.

But Clarke had never been particularly good at keeping her mouth shut despite her best intentions, “I read about Costia. I’m sorry, Lexa. She didn’t deserve that. Neither did you.” She watched carefully as Lexa stiffened and then slowly relaxed in her chair again. 

“No, she didn’t deserve that. She deserved better than I could ever give her. Gustus was right when he told me that my love for her would get her killed. I should have listened.” She dropped the piece of fruit on the table, no longer hungry as she thought about Costia; thought about the moment the messenger had arrived with the bag. She had known before he had even held it out to her, before she had even smelled the congealed blood that had dripped and formed a hardened layer at the bottom of the sack. She had known what it was, and as much as she had silently begged Gustus to spare her having to open the sack, she had opened it. Because she was Heda, and she couldn’t afford to be weak. 

“You let her live.”

Lexa straightened at the sound of her whisper, and carefully slid her gaze sideways to take in the bowed blonde head, the nervous fingers fumbling with the bread, breaking it into tiny pieces. 

“Sha.” 

“Why? How?” 

The broken whispers hung in the air between them. Here it was. Finally. It was the moment Lexa had been waiting for, the moment when Clarke was willing to ask how to let go, willing to understand that she could let go of her need for vengeance. 

Lexa opened her mouth and then closed it, then opened it. She was stumped. She had imagined a dozen different times how she would answer Clarke, how she would carefully and logically explain all the reasons why she had let the Queen live, how she had moved on. She would be as eloquent as necessary, and Clarke would understand. And maybe Clarke would forgive her. And yet, finally the moment was here, and Lexa realized she no longer knew what to say. All of her reasons seemed foolish and impossible. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. 

“Because it was what was best for my people. I am Heda, Klark. It is my duty to live and die for my people.” She wanted to curse as the words slipped past her lips. She was so tired of parroting a dead man. 

She glanced at Clarke and noted the furrowed brow, the sharp shine in her eyes, and she knew it wasn’t enough. This wasn’t about taking a deal that was best for her people. Clarke’s anger had never been about the choices Lexa had made as Heda, it had always been about the betrayal that Clarke had felt when Lexa had left her to die at the mountain. It had always been about that tenuous bond between them, the words they didn’t dare speak to each other, the hope that had fluttered wildly in their chests, only for it to be crushed by Heda. 

She slapped her hand down on the table causing Clarke to jump. She cursed under her breath again, and tried to calm herself. She inhaled deeply and let her breath out in a loud whoosh. She steadied her nerves and turned to the blonde. 

“Look at me, Klark,” she waited until tired blue met her own sparking green. “I wanted to be a tila, a farmer, I wanted to plant and nurture life. I wanted to feel the sun beat down on my shoulders as I hoed the fields, and I wanted to hear the roar of Winter’s Breath and know that my family was fed, that my people had full bellies, and goufas wouldn’t die from lack of food. I wanted to live happily with my parents. And I wanted Costia. I wanted to make her my houmon and have many goufas with her. But the spirit of Heda chose me. I was called, and the spirit beat me into the ground, stripped me to the bone, cut me and reformed me, bled me, and guided my blade during the trials.” She stared hard at Clarke and smiled gently at the wide blue eyes, “and I hated the spirit of Heda for it. I hated Anya and Gustus for teaching me to be a warrior, to lead, to kill. To die.” 

She laughed mirthlessly at Clarke’s sharp gasp, “Yes, Klark, to die. From the moment they met me, they prepared me to die for my people. To sacrifice my life, my love, my vengeance; all for my people.” She sighed and looked away, “I think they killed my parents. They said it was raiders, but there hadn’t been any raiders in weeks,” she hesitated for a moment and then continued, “Well, I don’t think Gustus or Anya did, but the Conclave in Polis…sha, I think they had my parents killed, so that I wouldn’t have any attachments. To make me harder, colder. My parents weren’t happy that I had been called, and my mother spoke loudly about the fact. My mother was a dissenter. And there was no room for dissenters then.”

She topped when she felt the warm hand slide across her fist, and she looked up startled by the touch. She turned her hand, until her palm met Clarke’s and she opened her fingers slightly, waiting to see if Clarke would give her what she wanted. She did, and she felt the tightness in her muscles ease as she felt slim fingers slide between her own and gently squeeze. 

“But I am Heda, Klark, and it is a burden I carry every day. But it’s worth it, Klark, in the end, it’s worth it because, even though I’m not a tila, I have ensured that the goufas still have full bellies and they laugh and play, and my warriors come home to their houmons.” She slowly raised the hand clasped in her own and ghosted her lips across the bruised knuckles, “It was always worth it, Klark, until I stood on that mountain, and I left you. And I cursed myself, and I cursed the spirit of Heda, and I wished a mountain man weapon would strike me down for what I had done.” 

She felt the tears well up in her eyes, “I am so sorry, Klark, that I could not choose you. I know what I have done. I feel each of my sins like a blade against my skin, and I can never bleed enough or atone enough for all those I have sacrificed in the name of survival. I can never wish enough that I could have chosen differently. I could not have both my people and you that night, so I put my people first just as I have always done. And I felt something crumble and break, because you were always the best part of me. And it still hurts, because I don’t know how to save you. Because I have pushed you to ruin, and I wish…” and her voice choked off into a sob, and her hand fell to the table with a thump as Clarke let go. 

She felt the pain scour through her chest, and she shut her eyes tightly, not wanting to see Clarke walk away from her, but instead she gasped lightly when she felt cool hands cup her face and felt soft lips press into her own. She sighed into the warmth of the kiss, and her hands cupped Clarke’s, and everything fell into place, and for a brief moment, nothing hurt anymore. 

Clarke pulled back slightly, enough to whisper against the brunette’s lips, “I don’t know how to forgive you, Lexa, but I’m done trying to kill you. I’m done being so angry. I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to hurt anymore.” She pressed her lips against Lexa’s again, her tongue flicking out gently tracing the brunette’s bottom lip. It was plump and smooth, and she opened her mouth slightly, and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. She fluttered her fingers across the smooth cheekbones, and simply basked in the moment, when nothing else mattered but Clarke and Lexa. 

Reluctantly Lexa pulled back, searching the blue eyes again. And this time she saw it: gentle pain, but also warmth, hope, and something that might have been love, but she dared not hope too much. She smiled and leaned her forehead against Clarke’s, content to simply be with her, to let go of Heda and just be Lexa and Clarke. 

She glanced up after a moment, gently rubbing her nose against Clarke’s, causing the blonde to smile. She pulled back and picked up the piece of fruit and handed it to the blonde, “Eat. You need your strength.” She smiled when the blonde gave her a shy smile and took it from her hand. 

She glanced down at the table, her brow furrowing when she noticed the little doll next to the bread, she flicked her eyes upward, in time to catch the guilty look that flashed across the blonde’s face. 

“Sorry,” mumbled Clarke, as she hastily swallowed the fruit, wincing as the too big piece scraped her throat, “I didn’t mean to take it,” she hesitated as Lexa picked up the little doll and rolled it between her fingers, “I picked up your coat and I felt it in the upper pocket, and so I…well…It’s me, isn’t it?” 

Lexa smiled softly as she rubbed the pad of her thumb over the face of the doll. “Sha, it is you. I carved it months ago. It was silly, but I didn’t want to lose you, your memory was all I had of you, and I was afraid that it would be taken from me. So I carved this, and I carried it in my pocket,” she blushed, “in the pocket over my heart.”

Part of Clarke wanted to simply melt at the sweet blush that was flowering across the brunette’s face, but she wasn’t quite ready to melt. Wasn’t quite ready to simply let go, not of everything. She was still hurt, even a little bit angry, but her rage…her rage had died, had been finally smothered, and she didn’t feel quite so empty or alone. 

But when she had pulled that little doll out of the pocket, immediately recognizing her own likeness, she had felt her breath catch in her throat, and she had almost choked, she had been so startled. She had held it gently, her fingers gently caressing the heavy features. It was obvious that the artist wasn’t particularly talented, but had still taken great care in painstakingly carving her features. And she had known who the artist was, and she had felt a gentle warmth seep through her blood, and she had smiled. Who would have thought, that the stoic and sometimes brutal commander would have been sentimental enough to carve a doll? 

But her smile had slipped into a frown when she had noticed a reddish stain on the white wood. She had stared at it for a moment, gently running her finger over it, a scowl on her lips. And as she contemplated the stain, she remembered that moment when Lexa had walked down the hill towards her, calling a retreat. Her eyes had been so dark, so fathomless, so empty. 

And sometimes when Clarke closed her eyes and remembered, she thought she remembered a wet glisten on the commander’s left cheek. As if…as if the Commander had shed a tear for what she had done. But Clarke also remembered the splay of blood staining the Commander’s right cheek, and when she had looked down at the doll again, she had recognized the rust for what it was: blood. Lexa had bled to carve this doll, and Clarke wanted to cry, because life on earth was brutal and harsh; and she was so tired of every part of her being stained with blood. Even a simple doll was stained with blood; and like the doll, she would forever be stained in the blood of the dead. She would have to find a way to live with it. 

“Wait. Why were you searching my coat? What were you looking for?” Lexa furrowed her brow, confused as to what the blonde could have been doing. 

“Oh. I... Well…,” and it was the blonde’s turn to blush this time, and Lexa’s eyebrows shot up as she noticed the red tinged cheeks. Well this was surely going to be interesting.

“Yes?” She nodded for the blonde to continue, secretly pleased at the way her cheeks turned even redder. Oh yes, this was surely going to be very interesting, and Lexa was looking forward to hearing exactly what the blonde had been up to. She smirked as she stared at the blonde. 

Clarke noticed the smirk directed at her, and she couldn’t find it in herself to be too irritated, not when Lexa looked so damn cute. Ugh. Cute. She really needed to focus on something other than the warm green eyes staring at her. 

“Ok. Fine,” she huffed, “I picked it up because, well…I don’t know why I picked it up. I just did, and I felt something in the pocket, so I checked.” Clarke shrugged and looked at Lexa out of the corner of her eye, hoping the brunette would just let it drop. Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. 

“Oh, Klark,” and Clarke shivered slightly at the way her name rolled off the brunette’s tongue, “you can do better than that, Klark. What were you doing with my coat?” 

Clarke shifted uncomfortably, well aware of the way her name sliding off the brunette’s tongue was making her feel. Uff. She might as well get it over with, and she hurriedly spit out, “I might have picked it up because I thought it might smell like you.” She refused to look at the smirking brunette.

“I see, and why would you want it to smell like me? Why would you still pick it up?” Lexa teased her quietly, delighted at the way the blonde shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 

“Ugh. Really, Lexa?” whined the blonde as she silently begged Lexa to just let it go, even though she knew she wouldn’t. 

“No, Klark. What were you doing with my coat?” Lexa firmed her voice slightly, beginning to tire of their game, and knowing that the blonde needed a firm push. 

“You are impossible! Fine! I was worried, and I was missing you, and I just wanted to feel you, so I picked it up and I smelled it! Ok! Are you happy now?” The blonde growled and crossed her arms over her chest in a huff, feeling the heat creeping up her neck and into her cheeks again. 

“Sha, Klark, I am happy now,” whispered Lexa as she leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Clarke’s cheek. 

And Clarke realized in that moment, she was happy also.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? I was trying to make this fluffy and cute, but my Muse of Angst protested, and she tends to get her way. I feel like i've become addicted to angst, and I really need to start writing more funny stuff.


	20. Reckoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um...I actually don't have anything interesting to say here. So yeah. Hope you enjoy. :)
> 
> Oh right. Crappy chapter name. I know. :P

Chapter 19

They spent most of the day behind the tied flaps of Lexa’s tent. More often than not, they spoke very little, simply shutting out the world, content to simply be near each other. Their peace was still tenuous and with so much still left unsaid, both of them raw and exposed; they couldn’t bring themselves to break the fragile bond with questions with no answers, harsh words, accusations, and denials. They weren’t finished, and they both knew it; knew that a greater reckoning was coming that threatened to tear apart their burgeoning hope. So instead they simply wove around each other, near each other like two burning stars plummeting to the ground. They exchanged small smiles and hidden blushes. They simply were. 

Lexa denied all entrance, choosing to ignore the continued huffing from Indra outside the tent. Indra wasn’t known for her patience or for her stoic calm, and Lexa idly wondered how far she could push Indra simply by ignoring her before she took her wrath out on her Second on the training ground. She full expected to see Octavia with fresh bruises in the morning. She smirked at the thought. Indra needed a lesson in patience, and perhaps Octavia would finally give it to her, if she was warrior enough to take her place as a warrior, and not a second. So Lexa and Clarke ignored everyone, despite the continuous arrival of the clan leaders.

Lexa puttered around the tent, sharpening daggers, mixing kohl, and stealing glances at Clarke when she thought she wasn’t looking. And Clarke slept off and on, her body succumbing to the exhaustion of the last couple of weeks, of the last year. Somehow she knew she was safe here, and she slept, and if she dreamed, she didn’t remember.

And sometimes they say next to each other in Lexa’s inner room, on the floor leaning back against her bed of furs, murmuring words that really didn’t make sense, that really didn’t register, that really didn’t matter other than the rise and fall and swish of the tones of their voices.

They sat shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, and thigh to thigh. And if either of them leaned a little too hard into the other, if either of them pressed their flesh together a little more than was appropriate, if either of them stared a little too long, if either of them sighed a little too often, and if either of them wished a little too passionately; well neither pointed it out to the other. It simply was. 

And so the hours slipped by unnoticed, until Lexa finally sent Clarke to her tent, suggesting she go see Raven and Octavia to ease their fears. She knew she could no longer put off meeting with her generals and some of the heads of the clans, who were part of her personal council. They had finally arrived in time to tour the new Ton DC and meet with the Skaikru to discuss official treaties. They would then make their way to Polis for the festival to official welcome the Planting Time. 

She sighed. This truly could not have happened at a worse time. It was going to be hard enough to hide the poison from her own people, but now to also hide it from the clans? She grunted as she put on her ceremonial armor and fastened her dagger to her thigh. At least her closest generals were bound to her by a sacred blood oath. They would do as she so ordered. She could deal with the fight between her and Clarke, it would probably have to end in punishment, and the Skaikru would be angry; but they would come around. She could afford to be lenient in a time of peace. But still she knew she must tread carefully. This peace was tenuous at best.

The bonds that had bound the clans to the coalition were fraying. She had heard rumors and murmurings. There had been small skirmishes between clans, and while there hadn’t been any significant deaths yet, tensions were high and nerves were flayed. She had struggled too long, sacrificed too much for the coalition to break. She needed to cement her power, show her strength; and she needed to bring the Skaikru into the coalition. Their weapons and technology would help temper the Ice Nation and Blood and Wolf Clans. The Desert Clan were renegades. They had no love for the Ice Nation, but were apt to side with them simply to spite the Trikru. They were fierce fighters, but cowards. Without the backing of the other three clans, they would toe the line, but they would be the fourth clan to break if the Ice Nation made a move. 

The Plains and Giant clans would be more likely to listen to reason if they knew the Skaikru would side with the Trikru, but they had close trading ties with the Wolf Clan and Ice Nation. They could not necessarily be relied upon.

The Boat and Island clans would welcome open trade with the Skaikru, and while they would try to avoid a fight; established trade with the Skaikru would help bind them even closer to the Trikru. It would be harder for them to avoid a fight, if they were more reliant on the Skaikru and thus the Trikru. And Lexa knew that Luna would come to her aid with food, healers, and other supplies. She would stay loyal. 

The Horse Clan and Stone Clan would immediately side with the Trikru, and thankfully, they maintained standing armies. That left the Singing Clan. The Singing Clan was still something of a mystery to her. Their leader was Sebastian, a tall woman carved from ebony, and her eyes gleamed with an unholy fire. Legend had it that she had laid waste to entire armies in the time of the last Heda, and she had been a loyal ally. But something had happened before Lexa had been born, and Sebastian had taken her people and retreated deep into the caverns of the western mountains. No one had seen them for years, until Lexa had been called and had then ascended. Sebastian and her delegation had come to see the new Heda. They had brought gifts, but had not sworn fealty. But they had joined the coalition, and the Ice Nation had soon followed. 

She had made Sebastian one of her generals, and Sebastian had served her well; but her loyalty lay to the Singing Clan, and Lexa still didn’t know how far that loyalty would extend to the Trikru, to Clarke. She would need Sebastian’s support to keep the coalition from failing, for even the Ice Nation hesitated to enter her territory. 

How she hated politics, the scraping and maneuvering. But it was necessary. She may be Heda, and she may have united the clans, but they were all fiercely independent, and she needed to show them her strength, needed to show them that they still need the coalition. They needed her, and she would make them all bend a knee, or she would take their heads. 

But now, she had to deal with the fallout from Clarke’s actions. She had to ensure that the plan she had set in motion days ago would still bear fruit. That it would still work, or everything would be for nothing. And she didn’t think she could survive nothing again. 

*********************************** 

Lexa sighed in annoyance as she sat in her throne listening to Abby and Indra bicker about what was to be done. It was late evening, and despite having been with Clarke most of the day, she missed her. She wanted this over and done with, so she could return to her, and then focus her attention on the clans. 

Nyko and Ryder weren’t saying much per usual, and Mordecai was a silent shadow as always. Octavia and Raven were keeping their silence for the moment, but Lexa knew that Raven would not hold back for much longer. But it was the three council members who were not Trikru that worried her. Luna from the Boat Clan, Sebastian from the Singing Clan, and Kellan from the Stone Clan had spoken very little, but they had observed much. While she trusted them, they would be most concerned not with Clarke, but with what this could do to the coalition. None of them wanted the coalition to fail. They needed the coalition, more than they needed Clarke. 

Clarke. After sending her back to her own tent, she had given Mordecai strict orders that no one but Lexa, Abby, or Raven and Octavia were to be allowed near the tent, and if she went to see Raven, Mordecai was to be a constant, visible presence. She knew that if word had gotten out about what happened, that she would be hard-pressed to protect the girl from her warriors. They would want her blood, which brought her back to the current argument. 

“Shof op! Em pleni!” She growled as she slapped the arm of her throne. She was exhausted and her muscles ached. She could feel her pulse pounding in her eyes and knew it was a result of the lingering effects of the poison. 

“This argument is achieving nothing! Indra, she will not be killed, do you understand?” Lexa glared at her general who glared back at her as she hissed.

“She must be punished, Heda. The warriors are restless and questioning. Felix knows of the Skai Prisa’s disrespect and has been talking. He was born Wolf, despite being fostered in my village. We can’t afford to be seen as weak, Heda. You can’t be weak. We can’t afford for this to get out of control. The Ice Nation and Wolf Clan may already know what happened.”

“But how do they know about the poi..?”

Lexa quickly interrupted Octavia standing abruptly and startling the Second, “We do not need to rehash this, Octavia.” She gave Octavia a meaningful glance, and Octavia flicked her eyes to Indra who barely nodded grimly to her. 

“Sha, of course, Heda, I did not mean to misspeak.” And Octavia bowed her head to Heda, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sebastian’s gaze narrow, and Kellan leaned in to Sebastian to murmur something indistinguishable to Octavia. She gulped, worried that she had revealed too much.

“This isn’t about that. Heda was simply ill, and that is all anyone needs to know. This is about Clarke attacking Heda in her tent. They all know that Clarke attacked the Heda. Made her bleed.” replied Ryder. 

Luna shuffled her feet, stealing a glance at Lexa who refused to meet her gaze. She could feel the tension in Sebastian’s lean frame, and she knew that she and Kellan also felt it. She was certain they were hiding something. And it had to do with the Skai Prisa. 

“And the fact that they suspect something else happened, has made them even more restless than usual. They will soon be calling for her judgment, and we can’t stand idly by. You must act Heda,” implored Indra. 

Lexa flicked her eyes towards the council, and just barely managed to hold back her frown when all three nodded their heads at Indra’s words. 

“You will not be punishing my daughter,” hissed Abby as she turned her hard gaze on Indra, “I won’t stand for it. We’ve been over this!” 

“You have no say here, Skai Fisa!” growled Indra as she stepped closer to Abby, clearly irritated and barely holding on to her temper.

“No say here?” and incredulous Abby snarled back at Indra, “this is my daughter we are talking about. And as Chancellor of the Skaikru, I say punishment is not necessary. She has suffered enough!” Abby glared at a seething Indra, who turned her back on Abby, pointedly ignoring Abby’s sputters.

“Something must be done, Heda. We cannot simply let this pass. To do so would give our enemies and unfair advantage over us.” 

Lexa raised one eyebrow as she contemplated Indra’s words. Her general was right, but she wasn’t quite ready to admit it out loud. She was stalling. She needed more time to find a solution that was acceptable, a solution that would appease her people, the coalition, the Skaikru, and mostly a solution, which she could live with that wouldn’t require Clarke’s death, or result in her being taken from Lexa. Lexa had let her go once, and she wasn’t prepared to do it again. 

“Do you agree with my general, Luna? That we still have enemies, despite the fact that the mountain has been destroyed, and that the Skaikru are now our allies?” She raised her chin, challenging Luna in hopes that Luna would agree with her, or at least be more diplomatic than Indra. 

Luna stared evenly at Lexa, knowing what Lexa hoped for; and Luna wished she could give it to her. It had been a long time since Luna had felt the harsh burden of leadership, and she was reluctant to pass sentence. She genuinely liked both Lexa and the Skai Prisa, but she didn’t know how it could be avoided.

“The Ice Nation and Wolf Clan may have joined the coalition, because you wrecked their armies and cut off their village, and they needed help fighting the Mountain, but they are not to be trusted. They are simply waiting for an excuse to leave the coalition. And if they leave, other clans may follow. The Blood Clan will surely follow, and the Desert Clan will probably also.” 

Sebastian, interrupted, her voice booming in the tent, “You need to prove to them that you are still the Heda who brought their Queen to her knees, that you are the Heda who united the 12 clans, and destroyed all who stood in your way.”

Indra glared at Sebastian and wrapped her hand around her sword. The message was clear, and she dipped her head towards the Heda, and stepped back. Indra met each of the gazes of those present, until she turned her gaze back to Lexa, “If you do not show your strength and punish the Skai Prisa, there will be war, Heda. A war we may not win.” 

“The clans are restless. They have been since the mountain fell. Without a common enemy to unite them, some are starting to whisper whether or not they need to be part of the coalition, if they need to yield to the Heda. We have had Plains warriors encroaching on our territory. There have been brief skirmishes and then they have withdrawn. They are testing us, Heda, and soon they will test you,” stated Sebastian as she gestured towards Heda, her stance strong in the flickering light, “the Singing Clan is loyal to you, Heda, and will fight with you, but if the Plains continue to encroach on my territory, and then the Ice Nation comes from the North, well my clan will be trapped between two fronts. We will retreat back into the caverns if necessary. They need to be sent a message. And this is the way to do it.”

“It may already be too late, my scouts have reported movements in the North and to the West. The Ice, Wolf, and Blood clans are mobilizing. Before long the Desert Clan will also start to mobilize. The Giant Clan is also an unknown. They would benefit from more trade with us, but they are wary of close ties with any clans due to our violent history with them. We do not want to make an enemy of them.” 

All eyes turned to Kellan who met their gazes evenly, but didn’t bother to offer any more information. None was necessary. Kellan’s scouts and rangers were infamous for their ability to blend into their surroundings, and if they were reporting movement to the North and West, then it was true.

“Indra is right, Heda.” Nyko stepped forward seeing the surprise on Lexa’s face. He knew that agreeing with Indra was unexpected. He was a Fisa, and he normally would have counseled against war if he had been asked, not that he had ever been asked. While he was trusted by Heda, and was also her personal healer, he was not part of her council.

Abby turned quickly on Nyko, her face clearly showing the betrayal she felt. She had believed Nyko to not just be her colleague but her friend, and she believed that he liked Clarke. So for him to agree, was a harsh reminder to her that they would never be the same. They would never be one people, and she alone stood between her daughter and their retribution.

Nyko stepped closer and faced Abby quickly holding both hands up in supplication, “No, Abbi, beja. Listen to me,” he relaxed slightly when she nodded at him. He took a deep breath and stepped forward into the middle of the room and looked at them each in turn. “Indra is right. The Skai Prisa must be punished, but that doesn’t mean her punishment must be permanent. There is room for punishment other than death. She was trapped in a nightmare and attacked Heda when she was touched. We all know that Clarke has been gravely ill, she hasn’t been right in her mind; and she did bring down the mountain. Surely there is room for leniency, Heda?” 

“Is there?” Ryder’s deep voice interrupted Nyko, “this was a direct attack upon the Heda. There is no room for a punishment other than death, not if we want to avoid a war. The coalition has been fracturing since the mountain was destroyed. The clans are watching you, to see how you will deal with the Skai Prisa. To do nothing now will be the final death blow. War is coming, Heda, and only you can stop it.” 

Lexa’s deep sigh was drowned out by the raised voices in her tent, and she felt the pain in her head worsen as they continued to argue. Abby was distraught and yelling, Nyko trying to keep his silence, while Indra and Ryder went head to head with Abby and Raven. She could vaguely hear Raven yelling something that sounded a lot like, “Fuck you, Ryder!” And she was pretty sure she heard Octavia howl. She wanted to chuckle. The girl had actually howled, she was so angry. Lexa worried it would end in bloodshed if she didn’t find a solution soon. 

Ryder was right. Indra was right. They were all right. Even Nyko was right. Technically in a time of peace, she had more room to be flexible, to weigh her options. The punishment would have to be harsh, but Clarke was strong enough to endure it, and she would spare Clarke. She could convince those in the room that Clarke’s illness was to blame, that welcoming Clarke and the Skaikru into the coalition would benefit them all. And those who dissented, and argued for a more permanent solution? She bared her teeth, well, they would bend their knee or lose their heads. She would show them her strength, and she would have Clarke. 

“Stop. Please. Beja. Please.” 

They all froze at the soft voice, and they turned as one to stare at Clarke who had entered the tent. Lexa sat up straighter in her throne, leaning slightly forward as her eyes raked the blonde. Her hair was done up in intricate braids. She wore the blue, leather jacket, and Lexa couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight. The blonde’s face was clean, as were her clothing. Lexa noted the pauldron strapped to her shoulder, and the daggers at her thighs. She looked strong. Confident. She looked like the Skai Prisa Lexa remembered. 

“May I approach, Heda?” 

“Sha, Heda Klark kom Skaikru.” Lexa gestured for Clarke to come forward, curious as to what had brought her to her tent, and why she spoke so formally. But she was more than a little gratified to see the blonde slightly stumble when Lexa addressed her as Heda. It was time Clarke recognized her herself as Heda Klark, and returned to her rightful place as leader of the Skaikru, her rightful place beside Lexa.

Clarke stepped closer until she was only a couple of feet from the dais and from Lexa. She took a deep breath, and drew the daggers from their sheathes. She saw Lexa sit back slightly in her throne, trying to mask her sudden apprehension. Clarke gave her a small smile and slowly sunk to her knees, seeing the surprise on Lexa’s face. She ignored the gasps behind her. She set the daggers on the floor beside and ahead of her, still clenching them tightly in her fists. She leaned forward, balancing her weight on her fists and bending her arms at the elbow, and she dropped her head. And she waited. 

Lexa simply stared at her for a moment, confused and unsure at the sudden turn of events. She had not been expecting this, nor did she know for certain what it meant, but she felt the worry niggle at her, pinch at her. She tasted bitterness on her tongue. She clenched her fists, her short nails cutting lightly into her palms. 

“Heda Klark kom Skaikru, there is no reason for you to kneel,” Lexa gestured to Clarke to stand, but it went unseen, as Clarke still kept her head bowed, not moving or speaking. Lexa tried to cover her worry and irritation, but her voice had a bite to it, “Look at me, and tell me what you seek.”

Clarke raised her head, but still leaned forward in a position of humility and fealty. “I do not seek the Heda’s pardon for my crimes, but I ask for leniency for my people. I ask that the Heda uphold the alliance with the Skaikru, and admit them to the Coalition. I ask for Heda’s personal guarantee of their safety and survival,” Clarke took a deep shuddering breath, “I submit myself to Trikru law to pay for my attacks on the Heda, specifically the attack in the tent and my attempt to kill her with poisoned wine.”

“Poison?!”

“What does she mean, poison?!”

“POISON!?!”

The voices of the three members of the council clamored over each other as they snarled in Clarke’s direction. Luna drew her daggers and Kellan snatched up her spear, both ready to end it now. But Indra and Ryder had also grabbed their weapons and faced off immediately against the three council members, while Abby and Raven stood behind Indra and Ryder, but in front of Clarke to shield her. 

Lexa felt the blood drain from her face, as she gripped the arms of her throne in an attempt at reigning herself in, in an attempt at restraining herself from throwing herself bodily at Clarke in a vain attempt to protect her from herself, to protect her from Heda. She ground her teeth together and looked quickly to the council who stared angrily in Clarke’s direction. All three were gesturing for Indra and Ryder to move, and Lexa stood up and shouted for them all to stand down. Reluctantly they all put their weapons away and stepped back. 

Nyko shoved past Ryder and grabbed at Clarke’s arm to pull her feet while raising his voice to be heard over the muttering, “she does not confess. She is ill, and she doesn’t know what she is saying,” he glared hard at the council, “she does not confess. There are no witnesses! She does not confess to these crimes!”

Lexa held her breath, begging Clarke to keep her mouth shut while the council waited, but Clarke jerked her arm from Nyko’s grasp, and looked up at Lexa, “No, I confess. My people had nothing to do with this.” She turned and looked at the council, noting the slightest shake of Sebastian’s head, but she plunged forward, “I confess to trying to kill the Heda with poisoned wine, and you all bear witness.” 

Kellan nodded and looked to Sebastian and Luna who both nodded, and then Kellen looked to Heda and then to Clarke, “So be it. We bear witness to this confession.”

Lexa vaguely heard the Skaikru yelling in the background and Indra and Ryder muttering and arguing, but the roaring in her ears all but drowned them out. She could feel her heart thundering in her chest, and she viciously bit down on her lower lip to keep from yelling. She welcomed the pain and the iron upon her lips and tongue. If Clarke submitted to Trikru law, it could not be undone, and it had been witnessed by two of her generals, three members of the council, and by the Skaikru Chancellor. 

She felt the broken sting of salt burn in her eyes, and iron filled her mouth. 

It was all for nothing. Clarke had ensured that. 

She could not save Clarke after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok...so I know a lot of people have mentioned they don't want to see Clarke punished. Frankly, I don't really think letting her escape punishment holds true to grounder culture. HOWEVER, it may surprise you what this might look like. So please bare with me. Trust me, I won't let you down. :)
> 
> And aye, I know Nyko was a tad melodramatic in this. But I heart him. 
> 
> Thoughts?


	21. I Won't Say Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay with me!! Oh and there might be some smut in this chapter. Don't get too excited. It isn't a lot.

CHAPTER 20: I Won’t Say Goodbye

Lexa heaved herself up and out of her throne, almost throwing her body down the dais. She shook in rage, and clenched her fists as she looked around at the havoc in her tent.

Clarke was still crouched in front of her, and Octavia was holding Raven back who was screaming and threatening Ryder. Nyko stood just behind Ryder, both hands gently resting on his biceps, to keep him from backhanding the yelling girl. Abby and Indra were facing off again, Abby completely red in the face as she poked Indra in the chest repeatedly. Indra stood there glaring at the Fisa, but with her hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of her sword as she fought not to draw her sword and simply run the annoying Skaikru through. Luna, Sebastian, and Kellan had distanced themselves from the fray, and while Sebastian’s face gave away nothing, Luna looked worried; and Kellan simply watched.

“SHOF OP!” roared Lexa as she stood there, her body trembling with the effort to not simply throw herself at them all, “Get out! All of you! Get out! NOW!” she roared again as she pointed to the tent entrance.

Abby and Raven immediately started to protest, and Lexa glared at them, stabbing the air with her finger. “No, Go!” 

Octavia grabbed both Abby and Raven’s arms, “No, we need to leave now. Before this gets really ugly. Trust Heda,” and Octavia tugged on their arms, and they reluctantly turned and followed the rest out. 

She was gratified that they all immediately shut their mouths and started to leave, but the anger and tension rolled off of them in waves, and she gestured briefly for Mordecai, who came quickly to her side, “Make sure they don’t kill each other. Separate them if necessary, and have Malachi stay with Abbi. Send for Marcus Kane.” Mordecai nodded and slipped out the tent behind the rest. 

************************************ 

She stood there in the sudden deafening quiet of the tent. She couldn’t bring herself to look down at Clarke, who still hadn’t moved. She could feel her muscles straining under the harsh lines of her anger, but she could barely control herself as the cold seeped into her chest. Again. She thought the cold had finally been driven out. But it was back, and this time, she didn’t think it would ever leave.

She took a deep breath and another, trying to get herself under control enough to speak without screaming at the blonde, “Do you know what you have done? Do you?! They have heard your confession, Klark! They have witnessed it! It can’t be undone! They didn’t know about the poison! I could have kept it a secret! They would not have fought me when I offered leniency,” she bit out. She unclenched her fists and raised them to cover her face. Her words were muffled behind her hands, “But now they know the truth, and because you confessed, they are bound by our laws, Klark.” She dropped her hands from her face, the tears stinging her eyes, “Get up, Klark. Please.”

Clarke slowly rose from her kneeling position, leaving the daggers on the floor. Her hands hung loosely by her sides, and she gazed at the young Heda, willing her to look at her, but she refused. She reached up and gently clasped Lexa’s hands pulling them away from her face, but not releasing them. She stepped closer, so there was little space between their bodies, and she searched wet green eyes. 

“Yes, but it’s the only way, Lexa. You know this. You have to punish me under Trikru law, or there will be a war. This coalition cannot fail. If it does, the clans will descend upon my people and ravage them, and then fight over their bones. And your people cannot afford a war, Lexa.”

“No, there is another way. There won’t be a war. I will stop it. The other clans didn’t know about the poison. I could have hid it, Klark!” 

“No, Lexa, you couldn’t. You aren’t thinking rationally, Lexa. We spent all day in this tent, we weren’t out there hearing what was being spoken, but after I returned to my tent, I went to see Raven. I heard them, Lexa. They were muttering about your ‘sickness.’ It was suggested that I had done something to you, that the Skaikru were breaking the alliance.” 

Lexa raised her hand in a futile attempt at stopping the blonde, not wanting to hear the truth, not wanting to admit what Indra had warned her about, but Clarke plunged on, ignoring the silent pleading in Lexa’s eyes. 

“Lexa, Raven said she has heard rumblings that the Skaikru are free for the taking. They can’t withstand the other clans. You can’t stop this war and let me live. The Ice Nation will come for my people. Lexa, my people have guns and well, we have Raven. Raven, Lexa. Raven who blew up a damn bridge! You know what will happen if our guns and Raven fall into the hands of the Ice Nation. They will gather the clans and bring this war to you no matter what.”

Lexa grunted and tried to pull back from Clarke, ready to argue that her people could afford a war; and she would go to war, but even as she opened her mouth to say it; she knew it was a lie. 

“No, Lexa. You know this needs to be done,” and Clarke felt the tears burn her eyes, “look at me. Please, Leska?” And Lexa had no other choice but to look into Clarke’s eyes, and she felt herself fall into endless blue, and it welcomed her and embraced her. Lexa couldn’t help but smile through her tears, when she realized that Clarke’s eyes, while still shadowed in pain and guilt, no longer burned with a god’s madness. Instead, something a lot like peace, something that felt so much like love, stared back at her. 

“I don’t think I can do this. I’m not strong enough to let you go again. I’m weak, Klark! Please!” implored Lexa as she shifted and pushed her body into Clarke’s, welcoming the strong arms that came immediately embraced her, and tucked her into the blonde’s body. 

They stood like that for a moment, holding each other, ignoring the sounds of the camp outside. Here for a brief moment, they were safe, and nothing could touch them. 

Clarke reluctantly pulled back enough to look at Lexa, “Leska, this has to be done. You once said that being a leader means telling our warriors to go die for us, that victory is built on the back of sacrifice. I have sacrificed my people enough, I brought this threat to their door. This is my doing. My fault, and now it is time to be the leader you always said I could be. My death will stop a war.” She placed her fingers across Lexa’s lips, silencing her even as the brunette was shaking her head, ready to argue. “Leska, this is both my punishment and absolution. By saving our people, yes, OUR people, Leska; maybe I can finally balance all of the blood I’ve spilled. If this coalition fails, then what I did at the mountain means nothing. Fox, Maya, all those who helped us,” she felt the tears burn her eyes and she bit back a sob, “the children. Their deaths will mean nothing, and they have to mean something. Their deaths need to have served a greater purpose. I owe them that. I owe them, Leska.” 

Lexa choked back a sob and pushed her body back into the blonde’s again. She knew she was right, and she hated her for it. She hated herself for it. She buried her wet face into the crook of Clarke’s neck, and hugged her harder, pretending for a moment that when she finally let go, she wouldn’t be letting her go to her death. She pressed her salty lips to the pulse that pounded in the soft skin of Clarke’s neck, and she slide her tongue across it, feeling it throb against her tongue. She sucked lightly and felt the blonde’s pulse pound down through her own body. She couldn’t help but smirk against the sweaty skin when she felt the blonde’s low groan vibrate through her body. It was gratifying but bitter. 

She pushed her hips hard into Clarke’s even as Clarke was stepping back trying to untangle their arms. “No, Klark” she muttered as she scraped her teeth along her neck and up to her jawline. She wanted to lose herself in Clarke, wanted to forget that they were Hedas, and that the fog of war was rolling swiftly towards them. 

Clarke closed her eyes tightly, her body quaking slightly under Lexa’s onslaught. Her rational mind told her that she wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t ready to let Lexa in and lay claim to her body, mark it, plunder it, and make it hers. But she knew what the next few days would bring, and when they tied her to the tree as they had Gustus, she wanted to remember what it would have felt like to rest in Lexa’s arms, to feel her skin slide against her own, to taste her. She wanted to take that memory to her grave. So despite the niggling fear that this was too soon, that she was still too angry, she pushed her body in to Lexa’s and kissed her hard on the mouth. 

Lexa groaned at the feel of the soft curves pressing into her own, and with her arms still wrapped around Clarke, she gingerly maneuvered them into the inner room her lips still firmly nibbling at the blonde’s. They briefly ended up tangled in the flaps, and Lexa finally wrenched them open with a huff, and mock glared at the chuckling blonde.

She shoved the blonde gently in the chest and was gratified that instead of fighting her, the blonde simply dropped down on the bed, and scooted back while managing to kick of her boots. Lexa was impressed with her finesse in doing so, as she herself clumsily yanked her own boots off. They grabbed at each other’s clothing and buckles, ripping open belts between hard kisses, until they finally managed to rid each other of their clothing.

Lexa collapsed into the Clarke’s open arms and simply lay there, her head on the blonde’s chest, and she wanted to cry as she listened to the steady thump. She felt the blondes fingers soothe their way through the braids of her hair and heard the soft shushing from the blonde. She stirred and buried her face in the crook of the blonde’s neck. She sighed wetly into the fresh skin, and she felt a slight shiver shudder through Clarke’s body. 

She pushed her upper body up slightly, balancing on her hands on either side of Clarke’s arms and gently wiggled, pushing her hips down into Clarke’s pelvis, “Open, Klark, beja.” And she pressed down again while gazing into warm, blue eyes. She smiled when Clarke flushed a little, and she leaned forward allowing her lips to glide softly across the delicate jawline, stopping to nibble her way to that delicious pink mouth that was turned up at the corners. She pushed her mouth hard against Clarke’s, scraping her delicate lips with her teeth. She caught the bottom lip between hers and gently sucked on it, then bit down, worrying it. She felt the blonde stiffen in her arms, and then Clarke’s arms wrap around her shoulders and pull her closer. 

The blonde breathed in the other girl’s scent, groaning at the feel of sharp teeth worrying her bottom lip, the feel of the firm curves pushing into hers. Her intoxicating earthy scent glistening across her skin. She felt her resolve weaken as Lexa pushed again against her hips. Her intention had been to make Lexa work for it, but instead she opened her legs and sighed in contentment when she felt slim hips settle in the cradle of her thighs. She held her there gently between her thighs, enjoying the feel of Lexa’s silky skin as it brushed against hers.

She slid her hands down the trim back, her hands bumping across what she could only imagine were scars and to the round bottom. She squeezed firmly, feeling the lithe body jolt into hers. She smiled wickedly at the trembling groan ripped from Lexa’s chest, and she dug her nails in slightly, and Lexa surged forward pressing hard into Clarke. 

Their noses bumped together and their lips slipped messily against each other, and Clarke felt a laugh bubble up in her chest, but when it ripped from her throat it was a choking sob, and she tightened her arms around the slim body pressed hard into hers. She felt the tears spill across her cheeks and tingle as warm breath puffed against her cheeks.

And despite the warm lips, or maybe because of them, that laid gentle kisses across her wet cheeks, she couldn’t stop the sobs that ripped through her body, and she turned her face away, and she pushed against Lexa. Pushed her away.

Lexa felt the firm hands push against her shoulders, and she leaned forward against them, not wanting to let the blonde go, not wanting her to leave. But Clarke turned her face away, and Lexa felt the salt sting her eyes, and she carefully rolled off of Clarke, but she refused to let her go. Instead she rolled on her side, and pulled the lightly struggling form into her arms, wrapping both arms around her. She tucked her face into the back of her neck and simply refused to let go. 

*********************************** 

The candles had burned low in the tent by the time Clarke’s shuddering form stilled and she fell into a restless sleep. Lexa had simply held her, and once she was sure she was asleep, she carefully got up pulling her clothing on and slipping out of the room. 

She called for Mordecai and Linus giving them detailed instructions and then sent them away. She called to her general, and they argued briefly, before her general finally agreed with a warning, and then she too departed. Lexa then sent for Octavia and Lincoln giving them instructions before ordering them to ride away. And as she returned to the inner room, she smiled grimly when she heard the pounding of hoofs quickly fading in the distance. 

They were running out of time.

************************************ 

She returned to her room and gazed down at the sleeping blonde. She was beautiful, probably had always been beautiful, but Lexa thought she was probably even more beautiful now with the tiny scars on her face, curtesy of her time with Anya. Trust Anya to always leave her mark. 

She fingered the scar on the inside of her wrist, curtesy of Anya’s blade when she had been a little too distracted one day in training. It had been Anya who had taught her to see the big picture, to look at the map and know her enemies’ moves before they did. Anya had been fearless, even ruthless, but smart. 

Gustus had tried to teach her temperance, but after Costia’s death, even he had struggled to rein her. But in the end it had been his stalwart strength and the understanding in his eyes that had helped her put aside her quest for vengeance for the good of their people. He had believed in the coalition, was willing to die for it. Ironically, in the end, it was his treachery for which he died. Treachery that had been rooted in his love for her. It had made him weak. He had died for love. And perhaps that was why, to this day she knew he was still the strongest friend she had ever had, and that was why she bore his mark upon her skin. 

She felt the tears burn her throat, and she prayed to whatever gods were left that this would work. Never had she needed Anya and Gustus’ guidance as much as she did now. The coming days would require all of her ruthlessness, power, and cunning if she, her people, and the coalition were to survive. If Clarke were to survive.

She sighed and knelt down next to the bed, not wanting to wake Clarke, but not being able to resist touching her. She slid her fingers through the thick gold hair and smiled at the feel of it sliding across her skin. Her fingers twitched, and she imagined what it would feel like falling across the skin of her stomach or back. She smiled and pictured Clarke above her leaning down to kiss her, her hair tumbling down around her face, gently enshrouding them both, shielding them off from the rest of the world. She closed her eyes, and for a brief moment she felt the gentle kiss of long, gold hair swishing gently against her cheeks. 

Her eyes flickered back open and tangled with sleepy, wet blue. She leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose, smiling gently at the roll of blue eyes. But her smile failed her and it trembled upon her lips, and she dropped her eyes, not wanting Clarke to read the fear she felt. 

“I don’t know if I can save you,” she muttered brokenly. 

“The time for saving is past, Leska. We do what we must.” Clarke cupped both of her cheeks and forced her face up to meet her, “They are going to come for me. They will gather their courage, and they will come. They are going to take me, if you don’t give me to them. If they have to take me from you, the coalition may still fracture.” She pushed herself off the bed and on to the floor so she knelt in front of Lexa. She pressed her mouth hard to Lexa’s. She bit lightly, just enough to bruise and break the skin, sucking harshly for a moment on Lexa’s bottom lip. She felt the warm iron fill her mouth, and she greedily let it stain her tongue. It was a part of Lexa she would carry to her grave. 

She pulled back and briefly admired the wet, plumb colored lip. Lexa narrowed her eyes at the blonde. No one was supposed to mark the Heda, but she felt it warm her chest, knowing that Clarke had wanted to leave a mark. But the smile faltered again.

“Call them, Alexandria kom Trikru, Heda of the Twelve Clans. Call them.” 

And the final pieces broke and fell into place, just as they were always meant, and Heda called the guards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know it might seem hopeless, but it isn't. Just stay with me on this. It will start to make sense. 
> 
> Thoughts?


	22. May We Meet Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who may be wondering: I only use the Trigedasleng "Klark" and "Leska" when Lexa and Clarke have already forged a bond together and a certain level of intimacy. As some have pointed out, I am misspelling "Leksa." I choose to flip the k and s to make "Leska," because it sounds softer and more intimate. It is intentional.

She stood there in her tent, bent slightly over her war table, worrying the doll in her hand. It offered little comfort, but if she couldn’t touch Clarke, then at least she could touch the little doll that she had poured her love into creating. It was her only connection to Clarke at the moment, and she tried to calm the rapid pounding of her heart. She imagined they could all see her muscles shuddering under the onslaught of breaking heart. 

She stared fixedly at point on the map, but if asked, she wouldn’t have been able to say what point. Her mind simply tumbled over and over again singing the same shattered refrain. She was almost out of time. Her most trusted generals and Skaikru were gathered in the tent, but she barely listened to the anxious drones of their voices. She was too consumed with the crushing weight of hopelessness that threatened to bring her to her knees. 

The Ice, Wolf, Blood, Desert, and Plains had vehemently demanded the Skai Prisa’s death, arguing for a traditional death on the tree, a death of 10,000 screams that would last hours, even days. Luna, Kellen, and surprisingly, Sebastian, had argued for an immediate public execution, and Lexa couldn’t fault them for it. They were trying to spare both her and Clarke a long drawn out agonizing death. Three of the clans hadn’t spoken up yet, but Lexa had received reports that they had started to increase the number of scouts in the area. She knew that these: Island, Plains, and Giant might actually be the most dangerous, because depending on how the coalition broke, they might ally themselves with the Ice, Wolf, and Blood clans. They could easily be the devil she didn’t know. 

Naturally the Skaikru argued for leniency, argued for any punishment, but permanent maiming and death. They had even proposed taking Clarke and moving out of Trikru territory, but they had nowhere to go, no safe harbor. They would have to travel by horse for many days in almost any direction before they would be out of the 12 clans’ territories. And as to what lay beyond? No one knew, but there were whispers of monsters and land that belched fire, and water that was too thick and bitter to drink. If they went east, they would run into a vast ocean filled with even more deadly creatures than walked the land. The Skaikru had nowhere to go, and even as they argued, they knew. The desperation was in every line of their bodies, in the cracking voices, their burning anger that had no place to rest. 

Days had passed since she had called her guards to take Clarke to her tent and keep her there, and still the clans argued and fought trying to find a resolution. At one point blood had even been drawn after Bellamy had insulted one of the Ice Nation generals one time too many. She had them both thrown into a pit, separate pits, so that they couldn’t kill each other and instigate even more violence. The clans’ representatives were all present, and Ton DC was a pile of tinder, waiting for the right spark, and Lexa feared it would all burn, and they would all kill each other. 

And now she was left with the biggest problem she had ever face, and she was facing it alone without her two most trusted allies. By formally coming to her and confessing her crimes in front of witnesses, Clarke had forced Lexa’s hand. Lexa could have hidden the poison from the clans and possibly argued for leniency, but Clarke had made the leaders bare witness, and they were sworn by oaths to listen to her confession. They would not allow for anything less than the fulfillment of the law. They were so bound. 

She knew what she had to do, knew what was expected, but she couldn’t bring herself to order Clarke to the pitted, bloodstained tree that stood like a ghost in the old village. It was one of the few survivors of the missile, and it was ironic that the tree where she had ended Gustus’ life, where she had tied countless others, where she had wet her blade a dozen times before, was what had survived, as if it were destined to embrace the blonde Skai Prisa. 

And the blonde Skai Prisa? She waited in her tent, a ring of Trikru and coalition guards encircling it to prevent her attempt to escape, to prevent the Skaikru from rushing the tent to free her by force, to prevent the clans from killing her in her tent. Malachi and Ryder waited in the tent with her. They had been tasked with her care, sworn an oath to protect her, until Heda gave the word. 

*********************************** 

She moved to her throne and sat, tucking the doll safely into the inside pocket of her coat. She felt the weight of it settle against her heart, and it felt even more crushing than the desperation that reeked in her tent. So she sat, stone faced, while twirling her dagger around and around and around. She was tuning them all out, blocking the noise and simply staring ahead, her face betraying none of her inner turmoil. Listening to them would do no good. They didn’t have any answers. There was only one answer. 

She could not afford for the coalition to fail, it would mean war, and the Skaikru would be one of the main targets. She had promised Clarke that the alliance with the Skaikru would hold, but they had resources, technology, and weapons that other clans coveted; and she could already feel the coalition fracturing. Minor fighting had broken out between warriors and civilians of the various clans. The generals were even more short-tempered than usual, and the village children no longer played with abandon along the river.

The potential loss of life was devastating, and she felt the full weight of the spirit upon her. Her people deserved better than a war that would make her lands run red with the blood of her warriors. She could not bear to hear the cries of starving children again, for they would starve. In the old world they had called it scorched earth warfare, when armies would set fire to all the lands starving out the people and opposing armies. The Ice and Wolf clans, especially preferred this form of fighting, and it had taken years for the land to recover from the last fires of war.

She could not doom the clans nor the Skaikru for one woman. Even if it was the woman she loved. 

She stood, and the voices eventually died down as they all turned and looked at their Heda. Her face was an indifferent mask, her eyes impenetrable, and she crushed her own heart in her chest as she nodded to Ryder, “Bring me, Heda Klark kom Skaikru.”

****************************** 

They had built a stockade and moved Clarke from the tent to the brush and timber pen. It was stronger, and there she would await the morning’s judgement. Lexa had ordered the Skaikru to be placed under guard, so they wouldn’t try to free Clarke, and she had allowed Abby and the others to say goodbye. Abby had to be forcibly removed from Clarke’s side and then restrained by Malachi, and Lexa worried that Abby might end up hurting herself, so she had ordered Nyko to stay with her with one of Sebastian’s generals.

She had ordered food and wine for the clan leaders and their seconds, and it had quickly become a small feast. She needed to appease the clans, and some made merry and drank and laughed, but many clans were still uneasy, knowing the coalition could still be in danger.

She was alone in her tent except for Indra, Ryder, and Luna. She sat slumped in her throne, the blade of her dagger clenched in her fist. No one had spoken for almost an hour, and no one dared comment on the blood dripping from Heda’s fist. They simply listened to the shouting and stomping of feet outside. Her guards were on high alert, and she had received reports that many of the Skaikru who had been living in the area between Camp Jaha and Ton DC had left their tents and huts and retreated to the Ark. It was a bad sign, and she had sent scouts into the words to Jaha to watch over the camp.

Her plan was desperate and ludicrous, and she had only hours left. She prayed morning would never come. 

******************************** 

Clarke sat on the floor of the stockade. Four days she had been kept in her tent, before being moved here, unable to see Lexa or her friends while the clans had argued about what to do with her. Abby had stopped by when she was allowed. Their time had been limited, but Abby told her that there had been numerous discussions about alliances with the Skaikru. The talks were long and tedious, but Abby believed that Lexa was purposely dragging out the talks as if she were waiting for something. Fights had broken out, and tensions were rising. Lexa wouldn’t be able to withhold judgement much longer. 

Clarke had been surprised to learn that Raven, Lincoln, and Octavia were missing and had been missing for days. Mordecai and Linus were noticeably absent also, and Abby told her that when she had questioned the whereabouts of Raven and Octavia, Lexa had simply told her it was not her concern. 

She sighed as she looked around the stockade. She had been going crazy while kept in her tent, but now she missed her tent; at least it had a bed; and it had the journal. The journal she had spent hours poring over, crying over. She had finally finished it, and she had read the last few entries so many times that she had them memorized. They had given her a certain measure of peace, of acceptance. She understood that Lexa was not particularly good at speaking of her feelings or even showing them, but she had written them down, and then had gifted her words to Clarke. And Clarke had treasured them. 

She leaned back against the roughhewn logs of the wall. There was no furniture in the pen. Luna and Abby had argued for a makeshift cot and blankets, but they had been shouted down by the other clans, and Lexa had said nothing. As Heda, and as the “victim” of the attacks, she had to choose her battles carefully, and she needed to save her influence for the biggest battle yet to come. 

She pulled the journal out from under her jacket, where she had hidden it. Although if she were honest, she didn’t think she had really managed to hide it from her guards. They hadn’t bothered to search her again, and she had noticed one guard had briefly eyed the slight bulge under her arm. It didn’t matter. 

She opened the journal gently, and ran her fingers across the heavy ragged paper, the broken scrawl of ink slashing across the paper. It was almost illegible in places, but it was beautiful, because here, in her hands she held Lexa’s heart. And Lexa had given it to her. She began to read again.

************************************ 

Journal Entry 101 Lexa is 21

My scouts have reported that the mountain has taken more Skaikru captives: Fisa Abby, General Marcus Kane, and a few of their warriors. 

I am unsure of what to do. We need Fisa Abby in order to turn the reapers back into men, but I don’t know if she would have helped us anyway. Nyko believes she would have helped, because she is committed to healing. But I think she would have just as soon as thrust a blade into my side. 

I wouldn’t have blamed her. Perhaps I would have even let her. 

It doesn’t matter anymore. The mountain has taken the Skaikru. The mountain has taken Clarke. 

I’m sorry, Klark. 

Linkon is gone. Somehow he managed to get free by sawing through his ropes with a blade. He has chosen his path, and he is a traitor. I will not welcome him back. But he knew this, and he has chosen to follow his heart. 

I envy him. 

The mountain has taken Clarke. 

I gave Clarke to the mountain. 

Journal Entry 102 Lexa is 21

I haven’t slept in two days. Or maybe it’s been three. It doesn’t matter, but Indra looks worried. Everyone is restless. There were small celebrations when we returned, but the tension was thick. My people look at me out of the corners of their eyes. 

Some of the clans are making ready to leave with their people, but the reapers that we brought back with use are dying. Nyko has tried to save them and bring them back, and he has managed to keep some of them alive so far, but I don’t think they will last much longer. Not without Fisa Abby. 

I promised my people I would give them back their fathers and mothers, their children, and their sisters. 

I have made a liar out of myself. 

I withdrew our scouts, according to the treaty; but we may need to prepare for another war. Once the mountain spills forth its terror, they will walk among us.  
And then it will be time for my vengeance. 

Journal Entry 103 Lexa is 21

She is alive. ALIVE!! I can barely breathe. My hand is shaking so hard even as I write this. 

She brought down the mountain. I don’t know how she did it. No one seems to know. But they are already whispering about her saying that she burned the mountain alive. They are calling her WanHeda.

I am sending scouts to Camp Jaha. 

Clarke is alive! 

Perhaps there is still hope. Perhaps she will forgive me. 

Please, Clarke. Beja.

Journal Entry 104 Lexa is 21

Clarke is gone. She did not return with her people to Camp Jaha. They say she took no supplies with her, just her gun and she left Camp Jaha. 

I am sending scouts to track her. I have to know. I need to know. 

The news coming from Camp Jaha is unexpected. 

She killed them all. She killed every last person in that mountain who wasn’t of her people. Even the children. She killed the children. 

My blood feels cold, and my chest aches for her. I know what this has cost her. I know.

My bones creak under the weight of my sins. I wish I could bear this for her.

I'm sorry, Klark. I'm so sorry.

My Klark.

Journal Entry 105 Lexa is 21

Fisa Abby has agreed to help with the reapers. We have lost some, but now we have hope. We will bring the rest back. We will make them men again. 

Fisa Abby is angry and bitter. I’m surprised she didn’t send my messenger back holding his own head. 

I have ordered a patrol of my warriors to make ready to head to Camp Jaha, we are taking the food and furs. Hopefully they won’t shoot us on sight. 

Journal Entry 106 Lexa is 21 

It has been a month and Luna has sent word that Clarke is safe with her. She has promised to keep me updated. She says that Clarke is like a wounded pauna, all anger and destruction. They are teaching her how to survive the coming winter.

I can finally breathe again. 

I have met with the Skaikru. I took them food and furs. They are not going to survive the winter. 

I have ordered the Trikru to return to the forests and hunt more. The Skaikru are going to need food and wood and better shelter. 

I will not let the Skaikru die. I owe Clarke this much. 

Journal Entry 107 Lexa is 22

We have forged a new alliance with the Skaikru. Winter’s Breath has taken some of them, but the rest will survive. We have spent many days in Camp Jaha building better shelters, bringing in wood for fires, and helping them tan their furs. 

Luna says that Clarke screams during the night. She talks to shadows.

Luna says she is broken. 

Luna does not know Clarke’s strength, but I do. She will return. She will be made whole again, and I will help her. I will help her rebuild herself in a new image. I will not let her fail. 

I will not fail her this time.

I miss her. I dream of her, of her smile and how she kissed me. I dream of her in the pauna cage, and I dream of her in my tent. I dream of her tears, and when I wake up, my cheeks are wet. 

I started a carving last night. I haven’t carved in many years. I wonder what Gustus would think of me now. Would Anya think me wrong for my pain? 

******************************** 

Clarke sighed and closed the journal, her heart too heavy to keep reading. She knew what was after, she had read it many times before. She wrapped her arms around the journal, pulling it in tight to her chest. She could hear the sounds from camp. Sounded like a hell of a party, but she could feel the tension in the air, the foreboding that lingered.

She could no longer feel Mordecai’s eyes upon her, and she supposed she had been truly abandoned, even if it had been she who had argued for her own execution. She had decided it was fitting really. After all, once upon a time, in what felt like a different life, she had begged Lexa to put her on the tree in place of Finn. Lexa had refused her then, but tomorrow she would do it. She would put her on the tree, and her heart ached because she knew what it would cost Lexa.

She was selfishly glad though that it would be Lexa who would slide the final blade into her flesh and give her eternal rest. She would pay for her sins and save her people and the Trikru from an imminent war. She just prayed it would be enough. 

She leaned her head back on the rough bark and closed her eyes, sometimes she thought she could still hear the voices whispering in her mind, but if they were, she had finally learned to ignore them. One tear dripped down her cheek. She wished she had had more time, time to Lexa everything she hadn’t been able to tell her, and that while she didn’t know if she could ever forgive her, she could let it go. She wanted Lexa. She wanted to be selfish and live with Lexa, but the time for that was past. She had taken up the mantle of leadership again, when she had presented herself to the Heda of the coalition, knowing what it would mean. She hoped Lexa would forgive her someday. 

“Leska.” She whispered it in the dark and closed her eyes, waiting for the morning. 

*********************************** 

“You know what you must do?”

“Sha, we know.”

“When night is at its darkest, during the 2nd patrol change. Then is when you act. Do you have the necessary supplies?”

“Sha, we had some trouble with the medical supplies, but he helped us just as you said he would.”

“Good. The escort will meet you in three day’s time. Remember to stop and change out the horses.”

“Sha. We have everything. But….is this wise?”

“You question your clan? Your leaders?”

“No! No. We understand. Apologies.”

“Now go.”

************************************ 

“Heda, perhaps you should eat?” Luna inquired gently, the silence finally getting to her. She wasn’t surprised by the icy glare or the growl she received in return, and she wisely kept her silence after that. 

Lexa sat there glaring at the wall of her tent. She wanted to kick them out, but she needed them to remain, to bear witness to the end. Because once she put Clarke on the tree it would be the end, and there would be no going back. She sighed, not bothering to hide it. She flicked her gaze at Luna and Indra, daring them to speak. She wanted them to speak so she could cut out their tongues. 

They were spared her misplaced wrath when she heard a commotion outside her tent. She could clearly hear Raven arguing with a guard telling them to move aside. Her guards had orders to let no one in, but then she heard a loud thump and muttered oaths as five figures quickly tumbled into her tent, with two of her guards hot on their heels. She noticed one guard had blood running down his face, no doubt curtesy of Octavia who looked more than a little pissed, and there was blood on the butt of her sword hilt. 

“What is the meaning of this?” she growled as she heaved herself out of the throne. She quickly waved the two guards out of her tent and glared at the obviously tired and dirt stained Raven, Lincoln, and Octavia. She tried to not show her relief, knowing now was not the time to show her hand. While she had hoped Lincoln and Octavia would return in time, and she wasn’t surprised that Raven had joined them, it was the other two who surprised her. She had not been expecting them, and it could change everything. But whether for the good or bad she didn’t know. 

She turned her attention back to the intruders, and snarled, “Well! I’m waiting.”

Peregrine smiled at the glaring Heda and whispered, “I know how to save Clarke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peregrine to the rescue! Woot! 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed more of the journal. Thoughts?
> 
> Important: My brother is getting married this weekend, and I am swamped with wedding stuff, so I might not be able to post on Monday, because I won't have much time to write if at all. While I do write ahead, and I need to remain a certain number of chapters ahead of what I post. So aye, hopefully I will get some writing done, but there may not be another post until next Thursday. Sorry!


	23. Salvation is a Plan Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the well wishes for the wedding! Despite some hiccups, the wedding went off, and it was beautiful. The newlyweds are now lounging on the beaches in Thailand and later Indonesia. 
> 
> I did manage to get a whole chapter written this weekend despite the chaos. 
> 
> Btw...who watched Fear the Walking Dead? I just watched it, and it is definitely a slow burn. Loved seeing ADC on my screen again! And there were a couple of times when I almost yelled, "Heda!" Lol. :P 
> 
> So this happened:
> 
> Dad: So how was it back at work after being gone for a few days?  
> Me: Ugh..everyone needed something from me. I literally spent all day playing catch up. Barely got through my emails.  
> Dad: Playing catch up? Is that anything like playing mustard?  
> Me: *hysterical laugher. No, seriously I laughed my ass off*  
> Me: *between hoots of laughter* I love you, Dad!!
> 
> This is how my dad and I roll. :)
> 
> I'm on Tumblr if anyone wants to chat about The 100, FTWD or anything: Bae-in-Maine.

Chapter 22

Lexa barely managed to get down the dais without falling in her great haste to reach Peregrine. The girl was obviously exhausted. Her clothing was stained, her hair was knotted, and her eyes were red. She didn’t look like she had slept in days, and Lexa knew she probably shouldn’t yell at her, but she could barely control herself. 

“What?! Speak, Peregrine, and speak true!” Her body trembled slightly as she stood in front of the girl, her eyes wild, and the hope beating in her chest again, almost enough to make her snap. 

“Sha, Heda. Raven and Octavia came to me in Polis to find out if there was a way around the law and…” Peregrine took a quick step back when Lexa leaned in closer and growled at her. 

“Get there faster, Peregrine, how can I save Klark?” She leaned in to the girl, her nostrils flaring, and she noticed the fright in the girl’s golden eyes, but she couldn’t bring herself to rein in her anxiety. She narrowed her eyes when Peregrine gestured to the strange woman who was standing next to her. Lexa stood back and eyed the other woman who stepped forward. She immediately recognized her cloak and the chain she wore about her neck. 

Lexa inclined her head slightly to the older woman, “Elder Maestra, what does Peregrine speak of? How can I save her?” She hoped she managed to keep the pleading out of her voice, but she wasn’t entirely sure she was successful when the elder’s eyes twinkled gently at her. 

“If I may, Heda?” and the Elder gestured towards one of the chairs, “it has been a long and hard trip to get here in time.” Lexa grunted and inclined her head towards the chair, and then with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, she gestured for them all to seat themselves. 

“Indra, please have a guard fetch some water and food for our guests.” Then Lexa turned her attention back to the Elder, “Beja, speak true. Can Klark be saved?” 

“Sha, Heda. But you must send for the Skaikru chancellor first.” Lexa waved impatiently at Luna who hurried out to fetch Abby. Lexa sat down in her throne, her fingers worrying the hilt of her dagger. She overheard Lincoln telling Indra that despite switching out the horses, and riding straight for the last 18 hours, they had almost lost the ones who brought them the final leg of the journey. She relaxed momentarily when Luna returned with Abby and Kane was with her also.

“I am the Elder Maestra. I am the Keeper of Records in Polis, and your warriors came to me days ago with an urgent request,” she glanced knowingly at Lexa, but Lexa refused to rise to the bait. 

“They requested that I tell them everything about the Trikru laws concerning punishment of allies, specifically laws that were no longer enforced, but still kept in the records as they had not been rescinded. It took a bit of time, but I eventually convinced them to reveal to me the truth of their journey, and I told them that the law was very clear on the matter of attacks upon the Heda,” and here the Elder smirked a bit, “but your Skaikru warriors,” she stopped and gestured towards Octavia and Raven who were slumped in their chairs picking at their food, “were tenacious and refused to believe that there was not another way. They were especially loud in their insistence that I find an alternate solution.”

Lexa grunted, “They aren’t my Skaikru…” and she stopped when Octavia and Raven both snapped their gaze to her and glared at her. But instead of feeling angry, she felt warmth bloom in her chest, and she nodded to them. “Beja, Elder Maestra, I should not have been rude. Sha, they ARE my Skaikru warriors,” and Lexa smiled slightly when both Octavia and Raven beamed at her.

“But time was running short, and I needed help, so I sent for Peregrine,” and the Elder Maestra smiled at the young woman, “she is my only goufa’s daughter, and she spent many years at my knee learning her way around the great halls and learning the records and laws.”

“Together we found the answers, but we realized that we would need to make the trip here. You would need me for what was to come. Only an Elder can cast a judgement. A judgement strong enough that the 12 clans would accept it. We all have our roles to play.” 

“Sha, Elder Maestra, but how does this still save Klark? The law clearly states that an attack on Heda is punishable by death,” Lexa waved her hand anxiously in the air, “and Clarke’s confession was witnessed. If it hadn’t been witnessed, maybe I could have…I don’t know…but I could have saved her.” She raised her hands pleadingly in the air and then let them drop back down to her lap.

“Trial by Combat.” 

Lexa just stared at her dumbly, the hope she had briefly harbored when the Elder Maestra told her she could be saved now flickered and died. And in its place, rage simmered in her belly. Clarke would never survive a trial by combat. 

The Elder held her hands up quickly as the tent immediately filled with the roaring of angry voices. Lexa had come off her throne, her hand gripping her dagger, ready to pounce, the rage consuming her. She had been tricked! Led to hope that she could save Clarke and have her also. 

“Pleni!” and they all stopped and looked at the Elder Maestra, as she slowly lowered her hands, “Did you really think I would come all this way without a solution? You should thank Peregrine, the rest is her idea.”

Abby shakily scrambled to her feet almost choking on her words, “Trial by combat?! Clarke will never survive combat against grounder warriors!” She shook with despair and barely felt Raven’s arms wrap around her or heard her gently shushings in her ear. 

Kane stood quickly placing his hand on Abby’s shoulder and leveled his gaze at the Elder Maestra, “what does Trial by Combat mean exactly?”

“It is exactly as it sounds, Skaikru General. Clarke may choose a trial by combat with an Elder’s blessing; and if she wins, she will be free.”

“And if she loses?” whispered Kane, already knowing the answer. 

“Then the gods will have judged her guilty, and she will give her life. But not on the tree. Combat will take her life.” 

Abby groaned and fell back into her chair, burying her face in her hands, “she is not a warrior. My child will not survive this,” choked Abby. She couldn’t hold back the sob. She didn’t want to. She felt herself cracking under the crushing weight of despair. It was moments like this that she wondered if she had done her people any favors by bringing them to earth. They weren’t equipped to survive in this world, and she wasn’t strong enough to save her child. Just like she hadn’t been strong enough to save Jake. 

Indra sighed quietly, not wanting to deal with this Skaikru mess, but she felt a twinge in her heart when she looked at Abby; and she growled under her breath. She really was getting soft. “Death by combat, is an honorable way to die, Fisa Abbi. It will be a lot quicker than the tree.” 

“No,” muttered Abby hoarsely as she heaved herself out of her chair again. She brushed the tears off her red cheeks and turned to face the Elder Maestra, “Elder Maestra, you obviously hold a certain degree of power; so please…take me.”

Abby leaned forward, clasping her hands and whispered, “Please, this is my doing. My fault. I sent her here to Earth, and she has had to do horrible things to survive. My child has suffered enough, so please, take me instead. I will bear her punishment. Put me on the tree, instead,” she pleaded. She raised a trembling hand, holding it out to the Elder Maestra. 

“My choices, my inability to be flexible is what cost my husband his life, and then my child was imprisoned for agreeing with him. I sent her to Earth before she could be executed,” and she sobbed her hand hanging in the air between them, a silent entreaty. “I caused this. All of this blood can be traced back to me, so let me pay the price.” And she held still her pleas reverberating in the room, and she prayed to dead gods that this stranger would listen and grant her plea.

The Elder Maestra smiled gently, “I am sorry, Chancellor, but Clarke is guilty.” She reached out and caught Abby’s hand as the last shred of her hope flickered and died, and her hand fell no longer able to bare the weight of her entreaty. She squeezed the cold hand in her own, “This is not the end, Chancellor, for Clarke is guilty but not responsible, and that is why I have come. Do not give up your hope, for Hope makes the impossible, possible.” 

Abby stood there stunned and then slowly sank back down in her seat. She had no choice, she could not afford to give up, and she felt a slight whisper in her heart, and she grasped it and held it and willed it to life. She would lay all of her trust in this Elder Maestra and in Lexa. She nodded slowly to the Elder Maestra, who nodded in return.

The Elder Maestra sighed quietly and picked up her wine drinking and then started to eat some of the food placed before her. She nodded to Peregrine.

“It is within the power of the Elder Maestra to grant the right of Championship. If there is just cause, and with the Elder Maestra’s blessing, the combatant can choose a champion.

“A Champion?” questioned Octavia as she stared hard at Peregrine, who nodded.

“The Elder Maestra will put it to the clans. Those clans that insist on the tree, may choose a combatant. Clarke may choose her champion, and it will be a fight to the death. If Clarke’s champion falls, then the trial by combat will be over, and Clarke will pay with her life, but it will be swift. If her champion prevails, then Clarke will be free; and will be given the Elder Maestra’s blessing.” 

“The Elder Maestra’s blessing?” 

“Sha, Heda. The Elder’s Blessing will bind the trial and serve as a warning to those who may still wish her harm. If they attempt to exact revenge upon her, then they will be subject to the laws of Polis, and their treachery will result in their deaths.”

“Will the clans accept it, Elder Maestra? The coalition is in danger of failing. If Clarke’s champion wins, they still may not be appeased, and the coalition may still fail.”  
The Elder Maestra turned to the woman who had questioned her, “and you are?” 

“Forgive me, Elder Maestra, I am Primary Kellan of the Stone Clan,” Kellan nodded her head to the Elder Maestra. 

“Well met, Primary Kellan. The clans will have to accept the outcome or face the wrath of Polis and the gods, not to mention the Heda, but as to your coalition…? That I do not know. It may be up to the Skai Prisa.”

“She should still be punished. Even if her champion wins, she should still submit to punishment. Not death, but punishment to show her fealty to Heda.” Sebastian’s quiet voice split the air. 

Abby and Raven both jumped to their feet ready to shout down Sebastian, when Octavia spoke, “She’s right. Clarke needs to show she is no longer a threat to Heda that she will submit to justice.”

Raven rounded quickly on Octavia, her eyes flashing, the betrayal she felt clearly stamped across her face. “No, Raven, it makes sense. If Clarke still submits to a punishment that won’t leave her dead or maimed, then she will have proven her fealty, but not just her fealty; but she will have proved her worth. She will have proved her strength. She will be a leader we can all look to, and the past will stay in the past. This is how she will gain the clans’ respect.”

Octavia stepped closer to Raven and jerked her head in Lexa’s direction, whispering “Raven, Clarke has to prove she is strong enough to maintain the alliance, but that she is also strong enough to rule by Heda’s side. The coalition and the Trikru will never accept her if they believe she is weak. Lexa wants her, but if the Trikru and the clans won’t accept her, Lexa won’t be able to be with her. The clans would kill them both.” She waited for Raven’s angry eyes to soften, and she smiled in relief when the other brunette nodded.

“Ok, O, I’m going to trust you on this.”

Octavia turned back to Lexa and nodded, then she turned to the Elder Maestra, “I will be Clarke’s champion.” 

“No!” Lincoln jumped forward, pushing past the others in the room and wrapped his hand around Octavia’s bicep, turning her gently towards him, “No, Octavia, I will be her champion. I am a more seasoned warrior,” he turned to the Elder Maestra, “I will be Clarke’s champion. She saved my life, now let me do the same for her.” 

Octavia pulled on his shoulder, “No, Lincoln, she is my friend. My family. It should be me.” 

Lincoln turned back to Octavia and smiled gently at her, cupping one cheek in his hand, “And what do you think she is to me, Octavia? Clarke is also my friend. My people. My family. I owe Clarke. She brought us together, and she saved my life. I will fight for her.” He leaned in and gently kissed her, his lips lingering for a moment, before he straightened and bowed to Lexa, “I will be Heda Clarke’s champion, Heda.” 

Lexa stared for a moment, gratified that he had stepped forward so willingly. He was a great warrior, and he had proved himself, and she was grateful that he had not given her cause to regret allowing him back with the Trikru. Some of her people had protested, but she had known that it was what Clarke would have wanted. So she had allowed him the chance to prove his loyalty, and she had silenced the dissenters with a few rounds in the ring. 

She nodded her head at Lincoln, “it is decided. Lincoln will be Clarke’s champion.” 

She turned to the Elder Maestra, “I will call the council, and they will choose their champion.” 

Lexa stood and looked around the room, “Is there anything more?” 

“Sha, Heda, perhaps you should send a rider to collect Mordecai and Linus?” 

Lexa whirled around and stared at the Elder Maestra in shock. She narrowed her eyes slightly, noting the kind smirk on the woman’s face. How had she known? Did she know, or was she simply fishing? She glanced at Sebastian, who barely nodded her head, and quickly slipped out behind the others, and then out of the tent.

The Elder Maestra stood slowly from her seat, smiling at Lexa and nodded to her, “Now if you will excuse me, I would like to retire for the evening.” She nodded to the other members in the room, all who stood back to let her pass. 

“Come, Peregrine. There is much to do in the morning. We must speak to the Council.” 

************************************

Lexa sat tiredly in her throne, feeling the exhaustion steep into her bones. She didn’t acknowledge the others as they filed out, but she was relieved that Abby at least seemed calmer. But her head jerked up when she heard a soft voice. 

“Commander?”

She straightened and stared at the two brunettes standing in front of her. One staring somewhat impassively, the other shifting awkwardly, clearly in pain. 

“Raven. Octavia.” She stared impassively at them, her stoic Heda mask firmly in place. She waited for a moment, but neither of them seemed like they knew what to say. She arched an eyebrow, willing one of them to speak, despite knowing she probably didn’t want to deal with the emotional scene that was most likely soon to follow. 

“Um…” and Octavia shifted this time, her grounder indifference slipping for a moment. The girl had come far in her training, but for a brief moment Lexa could clearly see the young child who had grown up beneath the floor. She had been more than a little shocked when she had heard Octavia’s story. She couldn’t imagine a society that so willfully disregarded children. Except…she could. She grimaced internally at the thought of the child Hedas who had come before, and she banished from her mind all the babies left to die in order to purify the bloodlines. Perhaps they weren’t so different. 

“Speak, Octavia. I do not have all night,” she spoke gruffly hoping it would move the conversation along. 

“Right…di-did you mean what you said?” She whispered, trying not to let the hope shine in her eyes. She had spent her entire life looking for home, and she had finally found something like it in Lincoln, but just when she had finally found a place among the people, her people; it had been ripped from her. And while she and Lincoln had eventually been allowed back with the Trikru, they had not been welcomed with open arms. 

Lexa grunted under her breath, of course the girl had to resort to her emotional Skaikru ways. Her lips just barely twitched in a grimace. Speaking of emotions had never held much interest for her, nor was she particularly good at it. She had tried for Costia though, and while she hadn’t had many opportunities to try with Clarke, she was determined to do so. She supposed now would be good practice. She sighed as she looked at the other girl, who was clearly pretending that she didn’t care about the conversation, but Lexa had noted how the girl held her breath when Octavia had asked her question. She supposed she should answer Octavia before Raven fell over from oxygen deprivation. The girl had a decidedly blue tinge to her lips. 

“Sha,” and she refused to smile at the explosive exhalation that filled the tent, and she refused to acknowledge the slight warming in her heart when the mechanic bent over coughing. Her reply had obviously meant just as much to her as to Octavia. 

She fixed her gaze on the warrior, “is that all Octavia?” 

Octavia nodded eagerly, not caring if Lexa thought her emotion beneath her. She had felt the instant relief when Lexa had said yes, and she felt almost giddy. She had come to the conclusion many months ago that she would die for the Trikru, she would follow Lexa into battle, and would give her life for hers. And to hear Lexa acknowledge it again, that Octavia was one of her warriors. She smiled. Finally, she had a people. She bowed, “Mochof, Heda.” 

Raven tried to ignore the niggling in her chest. She wasn’t entirely sure what it meant. This was the girl who had put Finn on a tree and how she had hated her for it. She had ripped Raven’s family from her, and Raven had sworn she would never forgive her, never let go of her righteous hate. It gave her a reason to keep going. But eventually what had once been fuel to keep fighting became a burden. And so she was slightly unnerved that she had found herself holding her breath, a small part of her desperately hoping to hear Lexa say yes. Because she had finally come to terms with the fact that it had been Finn who had put himself on that tree. And he had deserved his punishment. She simply nodded to Lexa and turned and limped out followed quickly by Octavia. 

“Wait.”

They both froze at the entrance to the tent, and as they slowly turned to face Lexa they gulped when they saw the slightly disgusted look on her face that she quickly tried to hide. Lexa really wanted to bite her own tongue off, but she knew it should be said. After all, she needed to practice being more open with her emotions. 

“Raven, Octavia…You…ahem…you are both valuable members of the coalition,” she hesitated when she noticed the smile on Octavia’s face dim a little, and the mechanic’s lips screwed up in a snarl, “what I mean is…you are both…you are valued. Now leave.” She finished in a rush, mentally cursing herself. How did she get herself in these situations? She was sure she could hear Anya’s mocking laugh. 

Both girls nodded again and quickly left the tent much to Lexa’s intense relief. Well she supposed that could have gone worse. She groaned. 

“Did you hear, Raven? Did you?!” the girl practically squealed. The younger girl was fairly bouncing in her happiness, “we’re important, Raven,” whispered Octavia. 

Raven felt her heart ache a little at the awe in the girl’s voice. She had never been important to anyone but her mother and Bellamy, and then Lincoln. Clarke had left her to burn in Ton DC, and Indra had left her in the tunnels. “I hear, O. I heard.” She smiled a little, for in this moment, Octavia was a young child again, finally earning the approval she craved, the place she had longed for. She grabbed the girl and hugged her quickly and then pushed her away, “Go. I’m sure Lincoln is looking for you.” She chuckled as the girl laughed and peeled away. 

She shook her head and made her way to her hut. She limped through the door, the pain in her legs like knives. Ever since the drilling, her other leg ached. It was weak. Both her legs were weak. Perhaps she was weak also. She was beyond exhausted and she collapsed on the bed and gingerly removed the brace, groaning as she did so. She sat there for a moment, wondering why she had cared so much about Lexa’s answer. She looked down at her leg, and she punched it hard with her fist. Nothing. She felt the tears build, and she punched it as hard as she could. Nothing. And the tears spilled over and down her cold cheeks. 

“Fuck.” She whispered. She wasn’t valuable. Not like Octavia. She couldn’t contribute to the Trikru, not the way Lincoln could, or Octavia, or Bellamy, or even Clarke. The Trikru were suspect of her technology, eschewing it more often than not. She had nothing else to offer.

And her chest ached with all that she had lost. “I miss you, Finn, you fucking asshole. You put yourself on that damn tree, all for a girl who didn’t love you the way I did.” But she couldn’t find it in her heart to be angry at Clarke, and she laughed through her tears when she realized that she finally wasn’t angry at Finn anymore, and she wasn’t angry at Lexa anymore. “Goodbye, Finn.” 

And she cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last part was kind of unexpected, but I think it works. I just finished writing chapter 26, and I have a few more chapters to go. But I have started writing scenes for the last chapter, and I actually wrote a scene last week that ties back to this. So I guess my muse decided to run with it. 
> 
> I know most of you are probably thinking one of two things:
> 
> 1) Awww...finally! Lincoln will kick ass, Clarke will be forgiven and so will Lexa, and there will be fluff and smut and everyone will be happy!!  
> Me: Frankly, those of you think this are friggen adorable, and I want to huggle each of you. And put you in a bubble so no one can ever hurt you. And by no one, I mean me. 
> 
> 2) Seriously a champion? What the actual f*ck, Jude?! Right. Like Jude isn't going to screw with us. This is too easy.  
> Me: Your cynicism hurts my heart. But you get me.


	24. The Council

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit this isn't my favorite chapter. I do like the last part. A little more is explained in this chapter and I think it was necessary, although not much action. Sorry!

Chapter 23: The Council

Lexa stood at the table, flanked by Indra and Ryder, her hand resting on her sword hilt as she listened to the clan leaders yelling at each other. She made careful note of those leaders and generals who held their silence or at least said very little. As was expected the Wolf, Blood, and Ice were angry, and the Wolf and Blood generals slapped meaty fists on the table in an attempt to intimidate, but she would not be intimidated. The Ice Nation General, Jarvan, hadn’t so much yelled as had simply risen to his great height and bared his teeth. He was a formidable warrior, tall and extremely strong. He had to be in order to wield the great mace that hung at his side. He was loyal to the Ice Queen, and rumor was he was her most trusted warrior, and perhaps he was even more. 

The Desert Clan leader was a sniveling, conniving rat; and while he hadn’t spoken much other than to simper, he bore watching if for no other reason; than he would be the one to stab both his enemies and allies in the back.

Luna, Sebastian, and Kellen had held their peace, simply watching. They had scattered among the generals, strategically placing themselves in case there was trouble. Yatow, the Giant Clan leader, stood heads above all, and he stooped in her tent, his armor stretched tight over thickened skin. He had said little, other than to get in a fight with the Plains general, which Ryder and Indra had broken up. She honestly didn’t know what possessed Sharda of the Plains, to try to match her strength against a man of Yatow’s size. Sharda was fierce and hot-headed a more than capable warrior, but Lexa sometimes questioned her sense. 

“ENOUGH!” she roared as she buried her dagger in the table, effectively silencing them all. They eyed her warily as she stood, her hands balled into fists and resting on the table. “It has been decided. The Elder Maestra has spoken, and she has sealed this council, and she will seal the trial.” She stood up, glaring at each clan member, letting them feel the weight of her gaze. “Choose your combatant. The trial will begin in five days, when the sun rests over the mountain.”

********************************* 

She strode into her tent, flinging the flaps aside. She growled under her breath as she tore her gloves off her fingers and flung them on the table. She was restless and angry, and she still hadn’t seen Clarke. Her heart ached, and she worried for her. It had taken all of her influence to convince the council that the trial should begin in five days, three days before the week-long festival was to begin in Polis. She knew she had conceded valuable ground, and more than a few of the leaders had stared at her with hard speculation in their eyes. She knew they were trying to decide if she was weak. She snarled under her breath. She would give them their answer in blood. 

She fully expected that a challenge would be issued soon, and she would have to fight. She welcomed it. She yearned to release all of her pent up rage, to teach them that she was still Heda, their leader, their mother, their father. She may have been chosen by the Spirit, but she had earned her place among her people, she had kept her leadership with tactical diplomacy and a bloody blade as necessary. They were her children, and she had fought too long and too hard for all of them, just to give in to their complaints and ego-mongering now. 

She turned when Ryder and Luna entered the tent, quickly followed by Octavia and Indra. Kellan wasn’t with them, and she assumed the leader was probably out moving among the clan leaders and warriors. She was gifted in the art of stealth as were her rangers. She would glean valuable information and bring it back to her just as she had many years ago. Kellan, unbeknownst to most, had been vital in helping her bring the clans together and forming the coalition. It had been her intel that had allowed Lexa to exploit the clans’ weaknesses, to manipulate them, convince them of the value of peace. Kellan was a secret weapon, and Lexa was relieved that she out there among the people. 

“Well?” she asked impatiently as they all gathered in the tent, “What have you heard? Which clan will present the combatant?” 

Luna and Indra glanced at each other, and Indra nodded to Luna who replied, “We aren’t entirely sure yet, but the Horse Clan has assured us that they will not put forth a combatant, and neither with the Boat, Island, Stone, and Singing Clans. We don’t believe the Plains Clan will unless pressed. Sharda is hesitant and cautious when it comes to the Wolf, Blood, and Ice Clans, but she could still see the merit in joining with them; but for now she will do nothing. The Desert Clan will not volunteer unless there is something greater to gain.”

“The combatant is most likely to come from the Wolf or Blood Clans, Heda,” said Indra, “we don’t believe the Ice Clan will put forth a combatant, simply because they prefer to exert their influence over the Wolf and Blood clans. They will prove their might by making the Wolf and Blood fall in line with them.”

“This is a good thing, Heda. Yatow has assured us that we have nothing to fear from the Giants, they are cautious but Yatow is willing to talk about an alliance with the Skaikru.” Luna nodded to Lexa when she was finished. 

“As we said, the Ice Nation most likely won’t put forth a combatant, and they are some of the fiercest warriors in the clans. They do not believe Clarke is a worthy combatant, and that works in her favor. The Wolf and Blood are vicious but arrogant. They too won’t believe that Clarke is a worthy opponent, so we can use this to our advantage, and no one knows yet that Lincoln will be her champion,” said Indra as she looked at Lexa. 

Lexa turned and eyed Octavia purposefully, slightly amused that the girl looked back at her so defiantly, but there was something else in shining in her eyes; and Lexa nodded to her acknowledging it. “Tell me, Octavia ain Skaigona,” and she just barely managed to not roll her eyes as the young warrior wasn’t able to restrain her smile, “what do you think about Lincoln’s decision to be Clarke’s champion?” 

Octavia was startled. Not only had she not expected Heda to ask her, she hadn’t expected Heda to particularly care how she felt about Lincoln’s decision. She was slightly flummoxed, unsure what Heda was getting at. She eyed her warily for a moment, per usual though her face was impassive, her eyes giving nothing away. Was this a test? Was Lexa trying to gauge her loyalty? Lincoln’s? 

“Lincoln is honored to be Clarke’s champion,” she stated proudly. 

“That isn’t what I asked, Octavia. I asked you how you feel about his decision,” sighed Lexa. 

“Um…I’m sorry, Heda, actually you asked me what I think about it, not how I feel,” muttered Octavia, her voice a little too low, a little too challenging. Indra snorted under her breath, wondering if she should just slap the girl down now and save Heda the trouble. 

Lexa glared at the girl, gritting her teeth. She could be insufferable, and Lexa had heard the slight challenge in her voice. It was what made the girl strong. She was a fighter, refusing to back down. Even to Heda, but it was also what made her foolish. She needed to learn when to fight and when to step back. Now was the time to step back. 

“Beware, Octavia. Do not play word games with me. Do not test me, for you will surely lose,” she growled as her hands tightened on her throne and she glared at the girl. 

Octavia gulped realizing her mistake, and she humbly dropped her head and murmured, “My apologies, Heda, I meant no disrespect.” She glanced up meeting Heda’s eyes, relieved to see no hidden malice in them, just calm resolution. “But I spoke true, Lincoln is proud to be her champion. I wanted to fight for her, but Lincoln is the better warrior,” she swallowed hard, “I…I…I love him, Heda, but he must do this. Clarke would do it for him. She would do it fore me. We both want him to do this.” She gazed solemnly at Heda, trying to put as much strength and faith in her words, “We will not fail you, Heda. We will not fail Clarke. If Lincoln gets smacked down, he will get back up until his enemy can no longer get back up.” 

Lexa eyed the girl impassively, her belly warming with her words, and she breathed slightly easier. She was relieved that Octavia supported Lincoln, for if Lincoln failed…she shook her head. She refused to think of what it could mean, refused to believe that he would fail. 

“Lincoln is one of my bravest warriors, one of my smartest despite the fact that he has the tendency to choose with his heart as opposed to his head. His heart is what makes him strong. You make him strong, Octavia kom Trikru.”

Lexa continued, “Do not speak of this with Clarke. I will speak with her and explain to her the Trial by Combat and the Rite of Championship.” She waited for them all to nod before continuing, “Leave. All of you. You are dismissed,” she gestured for them to leave, and as they made their way out of the tent she called to Luna, “Send me Sebastian.” 

************************************** 

Lexa sighed, feeling the ache burning behind her eyes. Her head was pounding, and she was exhausted. How had this gotten so out of control? Everything had simply spiraled beyond her control, and now she was seriously considering if she should have ignored the Elder Maestra and taken her chances with her original plan, flawed though it had been. There was still time, perhaps she needed to rethink the Trial by Combat. 

Lexa shifted on her throne, feeling the years of her spirit. She was weary and anxious, but she dared not betray how much. She could not afford to be weak or even perceived as weak. Too many clans were hungry for power, and if they thought for even a moment, that she was weak, they would betray her; and there would be no one left to stand between them and the Skaikru. 

She thrummed her fingers restlessly on the arm of her throne, impatiently waiting for Sebastian to make an appearance. She wrestled with the plan over and over again in her mind. She was growing more desperate, and she needed to act now, while there was still some time. 

“Heda.” 

Lexa jerked in her throne at the soft voice, and she narrowed her eyes at the young woman who stood so fearlessly in front of her. 

“You are not, Sebastian,” she murmured, as Peregrine slowly made her way to stand in front of Lexa. She gestured for the girl to come closer and waited. 

“What do you want, Peregrine, I am waiting for Sebastian.”

“Sebastian is not coming, Heda,” murmured Peregrine as she raised her head and met Lexa’s hard gaze. She tangled her fingers together in front of her, in order to disguise the faint tremors. She knew how desperate Lexa was, how she reeked of withered hope and stale fear. She may have been a simple tailor, but her grandmother was a great seer, and she too had the blessing, although not nearly as strong as her grandmother. 

“What do you mean she isn’t coming? Sebastian dares to defy her Heda?” Lexa stood slowly from her throne, her lips curled in an angry snarl with her teeth bared. She felt the slight shudder of rage dig at her muscles, and she ground her fist tightly around her dagger’s hilt in an effort to not pull it and bury it in Peregrine. 

Sebastian was an enigma. A fierce warrior who had been loyal to the previous Heda, and some said a close friend and counselor; but something had happened that had ended their friendship; and Sebastian had pulled her armies and retreated back to her own lands. Lexa had suspected what it was, and had played her hand hoping Sebastian would see beyond the coalition and agree. Sebastian had, unable to let go of sentiment. It had been weak of Sebastian, and they both knew it, but refused to acknowledge it; because it had been Lexa’s weakness for Clarke that had exploited the legends of Sebastian. But now…now Sebastian was in open defiance, and Lexa wasn’t sure she could let that stand. 

Peregrine took a deep breath and blew it out slowly and then straightened her shoulders. “Heda, Sebastian does not know you called for her. The Elder Maestra sent her on a scouting mission, and I have come to speak with you.”

“The Elder Maestra has no right!” bellowed Lexa as she stalked down the dais towards Peregrine, her eyes sparking. “The Elder Maestra does not command my armies or my people,” snarled Lexa as she felt the anger bubbling just under her skin. She itched with it, and her fingers kept twitching near her dagger. The Elder Maestra had gone too far, and she would pay. She has interfered too much, and made Lexa doubt her original plan. 

“No, Heda, it is you who has no right. You are going to sacrifice this coalition and your people for one girl. If you do this, then you, Heda,” she took a deep breath firming her voice despite her fear as she gazed at the widened, enraged eyes in front of her, “You Heda…you will be the ruin of us all.”

Lexa felt the words slam into her, harsh as any physical blow and she grabbed Peregrine by the front of her tunic and drew her dagger in one swift motion, slipping it under the girl’s chin. 

“How dare you,” she hissed, “how dare you accuse your Heda. This is treason.” Lexa pressed the cold blade against the girl’s soft skin, too angry to care as the skin split and a drop of blood slithered across the blade. In the back of her mind, she knew that Clarke would be incredibly angry. Peregrine was her friend, and Peregrine had always been loyal to the clan, to her Heda. Until this moment. 

“If I do not speak true, then press this blade deeper and spill my traitor’s blood, cut out my lying tongue, Heda,” and Peregrine leaned in slightly wincing as the blade sliced deeper into her neck, and she saw something flicker in Heda’s eyes. 

“You sent Mordecai and Linus to the Singing Mountains the same night you sent Lincoln and Octavia to Polis. They were to prepare the way, and somehow you convinced Sebastian to be a part of your plan.”

“My plan?” questioned Lexa, as she studied the girl intently, her eyes tangling with calm golden eyes. A golden eagle’s eyes. She had been named for a falcon, but she had underestimated this girl. She was an eagle, the lord of the sky, and she saw all from her vantage point. Who was she? 

“Sha, Heda. You made arrangements for some of your warriors to break Clarke out of the stockade and take her to meet Linus and Mordecai, who would then take her to the mountains. You were going to send Clarke deep into the caverns of the Singing Mountains, to live with Sebastian’s clan. No one dares disturb the ghosts of those caverns’ except Sebastian’s people.”

Peregrine plunged on, ignoring the sharp intake of breath from Lexa, “but what then, Heda? The clans would have razed the trees and mountains looking for her, they would have accused the Skaikru of treason, and then there would be war.” 

“How do you know this?” hissed Lexa, as she tasted bile at Peregrine’s words. If Peregrine knew, who else knew? Even her closest allies would not stand for what she was going to do. They would break her throne and tie her to a tree before allowing it. 

“I have the blessing. Not as strong as Elder Maestra’s, but I have it. And I tell you this, Heda,” and Peregrine reached up and gently wrapped her hand around Lexa’s fist, “have faith, Heda. Have faith,” she whispered. 

Lexa stood there, reeling inwardly from Peregrine’s words. Her thoughts tumbled wildly, and she couldn’t concentrate enough to form a coherent sentence, but she felt the warmth of Peregrine’s strong, gentle hand; and she slowly withdrew her dagger and stepped back. 

“I have no more faith,” she choked out as salt clouded her vision, and she stumbled back from the young seer, “my faith died when I held Costia’s head between my hands. I have no more faith, Peregrine.” 

“Don’t you?” Peregrine raised a hand and wiped at the blood dripping down her neck, and she gave Lexa a small smile, but it was edged in sadness, “Didn’t you have faith that Clarke would return to you that night? Didn’t you have faith that Clarke wasn’t ruined, wasn’t so lost that she couldn’t find her way back? Her way back to you, Heda. You never believed she was so broken that she could never be fixed.” 

Peregrine stepped closer to Lexa who refused to look at her, and she placed a tender hand on her arm. “Heda, you always had faith in Clarke. Do not lose faith in her now. She will need you in the coming days, you must be stronger than you have ever been, you must be more sure than you have ever been.”

“What do you see?” whispered Lexa as she felt the fear build in chest. She wasn’t sure how strong she could be anymore. 

“Infinite possibilities, Heda,” and she smiled at Lexa’s disgusted snort, “Sha, Heda, unhelpful, I know. But every time I concentrate, another line appears and branches off. But I know this much, Heda. Sending Clarke to the Singing Mountains will not stop this war. Blood will flow like rivers, Heda, and our children’s bones will salt the earth, and Clarke will spend the rest of her days buried in a mountain.” 

“You see this?” whispered Lexa. 

“No, Heda. I do not need to see it. I know this. The same as you do, because it is the truth.”

“But at least she would be alive,” and Lexa’s broken words hung in the air between them. 

“And you would be dead, and her mother would be dead, and Raven and Octavia and Mordecai. Her people would all be dead, and the Trikru would be dead. You would be dead. And our ghosts would wail across the land. Do you think that is a world she wants to live in, Heda?”

She was met with only silence, and after a moment, when she realized that Lexa would not respond, she turned and made her way to the exit, only to be stopped as she was half-way out.

“What do I do?” and Lexa didn’t bother to hide the tremor in her voice. 

Peregrine hesitated a moment and then smiled and turned called back over her shoulder, “Go see, Clarke.” And then she ducked out of the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? The scene with Lexa and Octavia was originally meant for a different chapter, but I decided to put it here. I think it was important to know what Octavia thinks about Lincoln as her champion. 
> 
> So what did you think about Peregrine's little secret? 
> 
> I know the last couple chapters have been really Lexa-centric, but I wanted to show Lexa's struggle, as we haven't seen it a lot yet. Clarke will be back next chapter, along with some much needed fluff!


	25. Prelude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've upped the chapters again on this story. I think it will be 32, could even be 35. Here's a little Clexa fluff for you.

Chapter 24: Prelude

Lexa stood outside of Clarke’s tent, strangely hesitant to step inside. She sighed and waved the guards away. She hadn’t seen the younger girl in days, not since she had had her imprisoned in her tent, only to be moved days later to the stockade. She was back in her tent now with guards standing outside. They had been ordered to keep her in the tent, a prisoner once again. She wasn’t sure how she would explain this to Clarke, but she needed to wait for the ideal moment; and she wasn’t sure this was the time. 

She sighed again and wrapped her hand around the handle of her sword, twisting the grip back and forth. She was apprehensive, although her face gave none of her anxiety away. She wasn’t sure of what her reception would be once she stepped inside. She could only imagine how confused and afraid Clarke must feel, and her heart twisted at the thought. She sighed again, trying to gather her fabled courage that had withered at the sight of Clarke’s tent. 

“Stop standing outside my door sighing like a petulant child and get in here,” the soft voice demanded. Lexa’s mouth dropped open slightly, so startled by the voice. She hadn’t realized Clarke could hear her. She rolled her eyes but smiled. Only Clarke would call her a petulant child and get away with it. 

She straightened her shoulders and stalked inside the tent, moving with all the grace of a lean wolf on the hunt. She stopped dead in her tracks, her gaze roving harshly over the blonde in front of her. She looked exhausted, dark moons under her eyes, her skin more pale than usual. Her hair was clean, but dull, and Lexa’s heart clenched at the sight of fading bruises scattered across her arms. 

She ground her teeth together as she stalked further into the room. She grabbed Clarke’s hands pulling her towards her, so intent on finding out who left the bruises that she ignored the tug back from Clarke. 

“How did you get these bruises? What did they do to you? Who did this? Tell me now!” snarled Lexa as the anger burned hotly in her chest. She was going to kill whomever had dared to hurt the Skai Heda, who had dared to mark her Klark. 

“Lexa, stop.” Clarke tore her hands from Lexa’s ignoring the shock on the brunette’s face, “they are just small bruises, they don’t even hurt anymore,” Clarke gestured haphazardly in the air, “it doesn’t matter, Lexa.” 

Clarke turned back away from Lexa and walked back towards her makeshift bed and sat heavily on it. She had been so relieved when she had finally heard Lexa outside her tent. She had felt the chaotic shamblings of her mind start to calm when she realized that she would see her at any moment. But then Lexa had barged in, and while Clarke appreciated Lexa’s anger at her bruises, she didn’t want Lexa’s fury and bluster right now. She didn’t want to hear her threats and snarls. She wanted Lexa’s silence. She wanted her calm strength, her stoic steadfastness. She needed Lexa to be a mountain right now. A quiet rock that she could cling to, a towering tree that would shelter her, because she felt herself crumbling. Her nerves were frayed, and her heart tattered and bruised, her mind was a constant whirling dervish that she couldn’t keep up with, nor could she seem to make it stop. She could hear the mumblings in her mind, and she pushed back against the voices, but she felt fragile and weak. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to keep fighting. 

Lexa stared after Clarke, surprised and more than a little perturbed. She slowly followed after her, trying to control her anger, but her chest burned with her fury. She had given them all strict orders that she shouldn’t be harmed. Someone or someones had defied their Heda. She would have their hands and their heads for such disobedience. And while it occurred to her that perhaps she needed to take a step back and rein in her anger, she still felt her fury building, and she wanted to lash out at someone. It had been building for so long. But there was no one to lash out at. No one in front of her but Clarke. And she had done enough damage to this woman. 

Her hand found the pommel of her sword again, and she gripped it so tightly, she could feel the grooves on the handle bite into her palm, and she felt the cuts on her hand reopen. She paced back and forth in front of the blonde, still too angry to trust herself to speak further. 

Clarke groaned as she watched the pacing brunette. She was too tired, she couldn’t handle this furious Lexa, “Beja, Leska, stop. Please just stop.” She pleaded gently, hoping Lexa would hear her enough to abide by her request. 

She ground to a halt in front of Clarke, staring with accusing eyes at the mottled yellows and blues on her arms. 

“They don’t hurt, Leska,” but Lexa knew it was a lie. A couple of the bruises were fresh. 

“It doesn’t matter if they hurt or not, Klark, I ordered them to leave you untouched. They defied me!” she hissed as she stared angrily at the blonde, slightly amazed that the blonde didn’t appear to be angry over her treatment. But then almost from the beginning of this nightmare, Clarke had been entirely too calm. Entirely too accepting of the council’s judgement. Not that the council had mattered. Clarke had already judged and sentenced herself, and then offered herself to the council for execution. 

And sometimes at night, under the cover of darkness, and in the privacy of her tent, Lexa allowed herself to be angry at Clarke for foolishly offering herself as a sacrifice, as some sort of twisted atonement for her people’s sins. Her own sins. Why didn’t she understand that they had all sinned. They were all murderers. This was what this world required. They were building a better world, a tomorrow for their children’s children who would never have to live with blooded blades, genocide, and child Hedas. 

“Leska, I don’t need your anger right now, ok?” muttered Clarke as she started down at her laps, her hands and fingers twisting and grating against each other.

Lexa stopped.

She felt that old familiar tug in her heart whenever she had looked at Clarke back before the Mountain, back before betrayal, back before the blood of hundreds stained the girl’s hands, back before her betrayal burned hotly along her own skin. She knelt down in front of Clarke and gently pried her fingers open, and slid her hands around the girl’s. “I’m sorry, Klark, I didn’t mean to cause you more distress. I’m sorry,” she murmured as she bent down and pressed her lips against Clarke’s knuckles. 

Clarke felt her breath hitch in her chest, and she smiled down at the braids of hair as the mighty Heda knelt before her. She pulled one hand out of Lexa’s so she could cup a warm cheek, and then gently raised her head. 

“Hi.” She smiled softly at the brunette, “I missed you.” She blushed but still managed to keep eye contact with the older girl, as she gently caressed the high cheek bone with her thumb. She was gratified to see that it wasn’t just she who was blushing. 

Lexa felt the warmth burst inside her chest at the other girl’s smile and she rose quickly from her crouched position and pressed her lips against the blonde’s. She swallowed Clarke’s startled gasp, and wrapped both her hands around the girl’s neck, her long fingers disappearing up in her hair. She cupped her face, and gently nibbled at slightly chapped lips. She smiled into the kiss when she felt the hesitant whisper of an inquisitive tongue against her lips, and she opened her mouth slightly giving the blonde entrance.

Clarke moaned lightly when she felt Lexa’s lips part to admit her tongue. She didn’t hesitate as she reached up with both hands and grabbed at Lexa’s shoulders, pulling her down and into her body as she let herself fall back on the bed. It was awkward and uncomfortable, and she was pretty sure she would have a pommel shaped bruise on her stomach later. But she didn’t care. Nothing else mattered right in this moment, not the war, not her upcoming execution, not her people, nothing but the taste of Lexa on her tongue, and the feel of her lean body pressing into her own.

Lexa didn’t bother to bite back her groan as Clarke slipped her tongue in her mouth to slide against her own. She was surprised when the girl had suddenly grabbed her and pulled her on top of her. She had fallen eagerly into her arms, pressing as close as possible with her armor still on, and she was momentarily frustrated that she couldn’t really feel Clarke that well beneath her, but she was too enraptured by the feel and taste of her to want to separate long enough to get take off her armor. She was afraid if she did that reality would crash down upon them again, and they would lose this moment. She wanted to stretch it out, pull at it, and wrap herself in it, until it fully enshrouded her, and she could simply exist here. 

Clarke groaned when Lexa shifted on top of her, but this time it was a groan of pain. The pommel was really digging into her stomach this time. She managed to pry her mouth from Lexa’s, and she felt the brunette immediately bury her face between Clarke’s neck and shoulder to tease and suckle at the tender skin there. 

As much as Clarke really wanted to let her continue, she was starting to worry for her organs, imagining that they were bruising under the pommel digging harshly into her flesh.

“Leska,” she tapped Lexa’s shoulder and then shook it when she ignored her and continued to kiss and lick at her neck. She bit back a groan, “Les-leska, beja. Please stop. Your…your pommel is digging into me.”

Lexa jerked back immediately when she heard the tears in her voice, and she rolled off of her and onto the floor with a thump. She scrambled to her feet, her sword clanging between her legs, and she hastily untied her weapon’s belt and tossed it to the floor. 

“Klark, are you ok?” The worry bled into her voice, and she reached out and gently touched the blonde’s stomach. She pulled up her shirt, ignoring the blonde’s little huff of surprise. Lexa winced at the large welt across her stomach. It was going to bruise. She stood up and quickly removed her pauldron and the rest of her armor, dropping it on a nearby chair. She grabbed a rag and dipped it into the water in the pitcher, making sure it was thoroughly soaked. 

She came back and sat next to the blonde, who had managed to scramble into a sitting position. But she gently pushed her back down on to her back. “Shush, lie back, Klark.” She lifted her shirt, ignoring the other girl’s blush and wiped the wet rag across the swollen flesh. She sighed. She needed something else. She leaned down and kissed the girl quickly, “stay here. I will be right back.” 

Clarke barely had time to protest as Lexa hurried out of the tent. She heard her calling for Mordecai, but couldn’t hear anything else as they moved away from the tent. Oh well. She wiggled around on the bed a bit, before she finally found a more comfortable position. She was so tired. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she raised one hand and lightly traced her lips with a finger, smiling at the trace of Lexa that still lingered. 

****************************************

It took Lexa far longer than she had anticipated to find what she was looking for, and when she finally returned to Clarke’s tent, she noticed almost immediately that the blonde had fallen asleep. She smiled as she laid the food down on the table and then grabbed the pouch Nyko had given her. 

She carefully ground the herbs into a fine powder and then poured a little oil in it. She whisked it together until it smoothed out a little, and she took the heavy cream over to the bed. 

She sat down on the bed, just gazing at the sleeping blonde. She was relieved that the blonde seemed to be sleeping peacefully. She tenderly wiped a stray curl off her cheek and then softly stroked the hand laying on her stomach. She hated to wake her, but she didn’t want to touch her stomach without the other girl knowing. 

“Klark. Klark,” she whispered as she continued to stroke her hand. She smiled when sleepy blue eyes finally opened and focused on her face. She was rewarded with a smile in return, and she simply couldn’t resist. She leaned down and dropped a gentle kiss on the blonde’s lips and then pulled back. She lifted the little bowl and rag nestled in her hand.

“I brought you some cream for you bruises and your stomach,” She gestured to the girl’s stomach and arms, “May I?”

Clarke bit her lower lip and then nodded slowly. She felt the warm air hit her stomach as her shirt was lifted, and she immediately clenched and then winced at the pain in her abdomen. 

“Don’t clench, Klark. This may be a little cool, but it will help. I promise,” Lexa assured the other girl as she carefully scooped a little of the heavy cream on to her fingers and then gently wiped it across her abdomen. She carefully smoothed the cream into the welted skin, and she smiled when the blonde gave a little moan. She let her fingers linger, lightly tracing the faint outline of muscles in her abdomen. 

Clarke had worked hard, and Lexa could see the beginnings of tight muscles stretching under the skin. She leaned down and blew across the welt knowing how delicious the cool cream could be. She grinned at the resulting shudder from the blonde, and she gently kissed the welt, letting her lips caress the smooth skin. She poked her tongue out and prodded lightly at the welt, and then slid the slick muscle across bruising flesh, and she was more than a little gratified at the resulting hiss and the hands that grabbed at her braids, but rather than pull her away, they pressed her face in to the warm skin of Clarke’s belly. 

She wasn’t going to complain, but she did need to take care of the blonde’s other bruises, and she reluctantly pulled herself away from the enticing skin, but not before dropping one more quick kiss on her belly. 

“Why did you stop,” whined the blonde as she tried to push Lexa’s head back down towards her belly. She relished the coolness of the medicine on her hot skin, but when she had felt Lexa’s hot mouth on her flesh, she had groaned and shuddered at the feel of the cold heat swirling along her skin. 

Lexa chuckled as she sat up and pulled the girl’s shirt down, “I need to put this on your arms too, and then you should sleep.” 

“I don’t want to sleep. I’ve been sleeping,” pouted the blonde. 

“You are exhausted, Klark. You need to sleep and gain your strength,” admonished the brunette lightly as she gently slid her fingers along Clarke’s arms, massaging the cream into the bruised and broken skin. 

“Perhaps you shouldn’t tell me what to do, Lexa,” hissed the blonde as she jerked away from the brunette, batting at her hands, as she struggled to sit up. But her movements were hampered by Lexa who was sitting on the edge of the bed, pressed into her side. So instead, she flopped back down on her back and crossed her arms over her chest and refused to look at the older girl any more. 

Judging from the initially surprised look on the brunette’s face, Clarke knew she was probably over-reacting, but her time was limited. She could sleep when she was dead, and that time was fast approaching. She felt the cold hollow in her chest stretch, and her muscles twitched in time to the staggered pounding of her heart. She angrily wiped at the tears gathering in her eyes. 

“Klark.”

Still Clarke ignored the gentle plea in the other girl’s voice. But she was unable to ignore the feel of gentle fingertips wiping the away the tears that slid down her cheek.

“They are going to kill me, Leska,” sobbed the blonde, “I don’t have much time left to be with you, and you want me to sleep!”

Lexa smiled gently and leaned down, sliding her arms under Clarke’s shoulders and pulled up upright into a sitting position. She maneuvered the girl into her arms and pressed the wet face into her neck while she traced circles on the heaving girl’s back. She muttered soft non-sensical words to her until the heaves slowed and only occasional shudders wracked her frame. 

Lexa pulled back and looked down into the red tear-stained face. Even with swollen eyes and pale skin edged in angry red, she was beautiful. She wiped at the girl’s face, trying not to frown at the snot glistening under her nose. She wasn’t able to hold back the shudder though as Clark grabbed the sleeve of Lexa’s shirt and wiped her nose on it. Lexa wanted to gag, but managed to refrain. Barely. 

“Klark, it is not your time to die. There is no tree waiting for you,” she smiled down at the widened blue eyes staring back. She saw hope flickering gently her eyes, and she leaned down and wrapped her arms more tightly around the blonde. She pressed her lips to her ear, “It’s ok, Klark, I promise. There is a lot to explain, but it can wait.” 

She kissed the blonde when she opened her mouth to protest and then gently pushed her back down on the bed. “I promise I will explain everything later, but first let me finish with this cream, and you do need to sleep. You need to regain your strength. Please sleep. For me?” 

Clarke pouted for a moment, still slightly anxious, but she was tired, she could feel the exhaustion leaching into her muscles. “Ok, I will under one condition.”

Lexa smiled and continued to smooth the cream into the skin of Clarke’s arms and she quirked one eyebrow at the girl as she finally looked at her, “oh?”

“I will sleep if you sleep with me.” Clarke felt the strong fingers stop gently massaging her skin and she immediately missed the warmth. She worried that she had gone too far as she saw the brunette bite her lower lip, worrying it between her teeth. Her green eyes skittered around the room, and then she took a deep breath, letting it out in a loud rush. She stared off in the distance, not looking at Clarke, and Clarke knew better than to speak. 

Lexa felt a little sliver of anxiety flower inside her chest. She hadn’t really slept with anyone since Costia. True she and Clarke had briefly slept in the same bed, but that was after they had almost…she immediately banished the thought from her mind, not wanting to tempt herself. She glanced down at Clarke, noting the hope shining through cloudy blue eyes. She smiled as she started at the beautiful girl, and she realized it didn’t really matter anymore. Clarke was her shelter. Her strength. She was home. 

“Sha, Klark. I will sleep with you.” 

Lexa stood and stripped off her jacket and kicked off her boots. She untied the dagger from around her thigh and carefully set it within reach and then sat down on the bed, gesturing for Clarke to scoot over. Once Clarke was settled, Lexa lay down next to her carefully positioning herself on the bed, so that she could rise quickly if an intruder dared enter. She double checked that her dagger was at hand. 

She stiffened abruptly when she felt the weight of Clarke against her side and felt an arm slip across her chest, and a leg thrown carelessly over her own. “Is this ok?” whispered Clarke. She had felt the brunette stiffen against her and worried that she might have crossed a line. 

Lexa felt her chest tighten at the words slipped across the skin of her neck. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, and it limited her movements, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell the girl no. So instead, she wiggled until her right arm was free, and she wrapped it around the blonde’s shoulders and pulled her tighter against her, holding her securely. She was rewarded with an unintelligible murmur from the blonde. 

The minutes passed and the blonde’s breath evened out and she fell asleep, safe and content in the sheltering arms of the Heda of 12 clans, of Lexa. 

And Lexa…She sighed in contentment at the strange weight against her side, and she knew she could get used to it. She could love it. 

And perhaps that is where the danger lay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the fluff. I know things are moving kind of slowly right now, and the Trial by Combat is still a few chapters away. I really want to delve into Lexa. I've been pushing her a little, because I want to see what she will do. I also really wanted to spend a few chapters building their relationship before the epic (you know what) hits the fan. So hope you don't mind how slow it is. 
> 
> Thoughts?


	26. The Morning Isn't Always Bright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I actually don't really have an A/N. Enjoy.

Chapter 25: The Morning Isn't Always Bright

Lexa stirred in the early hours of the morning as she was prone to do, but she lay there for a few minutes unwilling to rise so quickly when she felt the warm weight against her side. She turned her head and pushed her nose gently against the blonde hair splayed wildly across the furs. She inhaled deeply smelling the light floral scent of the soap Clarke had used earlier. She turned carefully on her side, nudging the blonde over on to her back. She was surprised but gratified the blonde kept sleeping. She lightly traced the length of the blonde’s nose, and nudged a few curls aside and pressed a gentle kiss on the pale cheek. 

********************************* 

It had been a long, hard night, harder than she had anticipated. She was exhausted from the restless shaking of the blonde’s limbs, and her quiet murmurs that had kept her awake. At one point the younger girl had almost driven her from the bed with her shaking. She had unknowingly hit Lexa in the chest a few times, and Lexa had finally wrapped both arms around her in an attempt to soothe her, but instead she had pushed and pulled against the cage of Lexa’s arms. 

Lexa had felt her heart crack, and the fissions of pain almost took her breath away as she tried to sooth the trembling girl in her arms. She had felt her own tears burn her eyes, and her breath shudder in her chest. She felt the burning weight of each and every one of her sins, and she always would. And eventually Clarke had quieted, and her limbs had stopped shifting so restlessly, and she had slept. But Lexa didn’t. Instead she sheltered the slumbering blonde in her arms and made silent promises that she prayed she could keep. 

********************************** 

Lexa sighed and shook herself out of her reverie. She pulled back and studied the blonde for a moment. It occurred to her that she really didn’t know if the blonde was normally a heavy sleeper or not, when she wasn’t tortured with nightmares. Did she normally snore? Did she always murmur in her sleep? Did she steal the furs? She smiled at the thought of wrestling for more furs with the blonde during the cold months. But she sobered quickly at the thought of the days to come. She just prayed she would get the chance to know what it would be like to slide into bed with the blonde waiting for her, tangling their legs together, and falling asleep in each other’s arms. 

She sighed and gently unwound her arms from around Clarke and lay back down on her back, throwing one arms over her eyes. She needed to get up. There were plans to be made, and she still needed to explain to Clarke what was to happen in a few days’ time. 

“It is too early for you to be sighing so heavily,” a sleepy voice murmured in the silence of the tent. Clarke rolled back over on her side and nuzzled her face into the brunette’s shoulder, refusing to open her eyes. She pressed her lips gently against the smooth shoulder and finally opened her eyes. She was met with a bluish green blur, and as she eased her head back slightly, she realized she was face to face, almost lip to skin, to Lexa’s tattoo on her right upper arm. 

She stared at the tattoo for a moment, wondering what its significance was. No one else had a tattoo like this on their arm that she had seen, and she realized it might be specific to only the Heda. She flicked her eyes up mischievously taking in Lexa’s profile. She could see the tightness in the elegant swoop of her jaw line, and she leaned back in and pressed her lips to the brunette’s shoulder again. She opened her mouth slightly and slightly pursed her lips against the skin and sucked lightly, flicking her tongue out to taste the salt. 

Lexa stiffened and then felt Clarke shift against her, but she still didn’t say anything. Clarke smiled against the salty sweet flesh and sucked a little harder and was rewarded with the older girl’s hips twitching. She pulled back slightly, and then flicked her tongue out and gently traced the design of the tattoo. She felt the girl shudder, and then a slightly breathless murmur. She laved the skin with her tongue and chuckled against a mouthful of flesh when she heard the petulant whine. 

“Klaaark!” Lexa couldn’t keep the whine out of her voice, and she fisted the furs in one hand. Her hips twitched at the feel of the other girl’s tongue tracing her skin. She knew the whine was most unbecoming of a Heda, but she wasn’t sure she particularly cared at the moment. Heda could be damned. Right now it was Lexa and Clarke, and when she felt the girl’s hot mouth return to her skin, she groaned and turned quickly, pushing the blonde back down on to the furs. 

Lexa chuckled at the girl’s disgruntled look. “I wasn’t done, Leska,” she pouted. 

Lexa leaned down and nuzzled under the girl’s chin, nibbling on her jawline, “you are done for now, it is my turn.” She shifted so she was laying partly on her side and just slightly on top of Clarke, being careful to not put any weight on her stomach. She sighed in contentment when she felt Clarke’s arms come up around her shoulders and pull her into her body. 

“I could get used to this,” she muttered without really thinking as she spoke. She felt Clarke stiffen beneath her, and she cursed inwardly. 

“But we can’t get used to it can we.”

Lexa winced at the dull, flat tone of Clarke’s voice, and she rolled back on to her side, and pulled the suddenly reluctant blonde into her arms. She peppered soft kisses along her face, and she tasted salt on her lips. 

“Shush, Klark, it will be ok. Much has happened, and I need to explain it to you, but first we should eat.” She relaxed slightly when she felt the nod against her chest. She had been surprised at first that the blonde hadn’t questioned why she had been released from the stockade, or hadn’t questioned her last night about what was going to happen. She had been reluctant to speak of it at all, and it wasn’t like Clarke. The blonde had never shied away from confrontation, always choosing to meet it with stark determination and strength. But she supposed after everything she had been through, she simply didn’t want to hear about what she believed was her upcoming execution. 

Truth be told, Lexa was slightly reluctant to explain the Rite of Championship to Clarke. She knew Clarke well enough to know that she was not going to take kindly to it. She knew she would have to convince Clarke to let Lincoln fight for her, and it would be a hard fought battle to get Clarke to concede. She needed to plan carefully how she was going to present it to Clarke so she would see reason, and understand that this was the best method. 

She rolled up into a sitting position and stood, stretching, sighing as she felt her bones and joints pop into place. She quickly pulled on her pants and boots. She turned back to a sleep-mussed Clarke and held her hand out to her to help her out of bed. But she whirled around when she heard the footsteps storm into the tent, and she quickly scooped up her dagger and turned to face the tent flaps. 

She snarled when she saw Bellamy barrel inside, “Clarke! Clarke! You need to convince Lincoln to stand down as your champion! I will fight in your place…” his voice trailed off when he saw a furious Commander snarling and advancing on him with a dagger in her hand. He gulped and raised both hands quickly, ignoring the bewildered blonde in the bed. 

“Co-commander, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were in here.” He continued to back up, realizing as he did that he was quickly running out of room, and the Commander truly looked as if she was going to gut him on the spot. 

“Leska! Stop!” Clarke quickly scrambled out of bed, her mind whirling madly as she noticed how utterly furious Lexa was, not to mention she could clearly see the fear shining from Bellamy’s eyes. She reached out and grabbed Lexa’s arm, halting her only a couple feet from Bellamy. 

“Leska, please. I would appreciate it if you didn’t gut one of my closest friends, and one of the Skaikru council members.” She tried to joke lightly to ease the tension in the tent. She sidled up closer to Lexa, leaning in to her body, “please, Leska.”

Lexa snarled again but slowly dropped her arm. The fool! She just hoped Clarke hadn’t picked up on what he had said. Naturally, she was out of luck. 

“So,” and Clarke turned and looked at Bellamy who had finally managed to rein in his fear and simply looked guilty when Clarke turned to him. She narrowed her eyes at him, “What is this about, Bellamy? What is this about Lincoln and a champion?” 

She glared harder at him when she saw that he was looking beyond her, and he knew he was looking at Lexa. “Do NOT look at her!” she snapped, “You are talking to me, Bellamy, not Lexa. Now what is this about a champion?” 

“Klark,” Lexa tried to pull Clarke back towards her and hope she could redirect the situation that she knew was quickly going to quickly escalate.

Clarke jerked her arm out of Lexa’s grasp and glared at her, “Is this what you haven’t told me yet? Is this the plan? A champion?” She turned back to Bellamy and when she heard Lexa start to speak, she threw up her hand, “No, I want to hear from Bellamy, not you.” 

Lexa snapped her mouth shut, slightly bewildered that she was obeying the blonde. She was the Heda, no one spoke to the Heda like that, and by right she should say something, exert her authority; but instead she held her tongue. And she wondered why. She would surely need to revisit just how much power Clarke had over her. 

“Oh. Um…well…I…” Bellamy continued to stutter as he shuffled his feet, realizing just how badly he had erred. He had thought Lexa would have already told Clarke what the plan was, but it was obvious she hadn’t mentioned it yet, and he silently cursed her. 

Bellamy flicked his eyes back and forth between the two women, noting both looked very displeased with him at the moment. He had really stepped in it this time, and he suddenly cocked his head towards the tent entry way. 

“Wait…what?” He raised his voice, “What was that, Octavia? Ok I’m coming!” And he turned on his heel and fled out of the tent yelling over his shoulder, “Sorry, Octavia needs me.”

“Coward!” Roared Lexa as she started to move past Clarke to follow him, intent on teaching him a valuable lesson in courage, but she was brought to an abrupt halt by Clarke grabbing her arm and jerking hard.

“Like hell you are going after him! You have a lot of explaining to do, Lexa!” Lexa cringed slightly at the sound of her name. It was harsh and abrupt spitting from the blonde’s mouth, and she turned to face Clarke, her Heda mask slipping perfectly into place. 

Clarke wanted to scream the moment she realized she was facing Heda and not Lexa, “Don’t you fucking dare, Lexa!” she snarled as she threw both hands up in the air, feeling the anger burn in her chest as Lexa didn’t even blink but just stared impassively at her. “I want to talk to Lexa, not the Heda of the 12 clans. This isn’t just about our people, this is also about you and me, Lexa!” 

Lexa simply stared at Clarke, trying to quell the irritation she felt as she stared calmly at the angry blonde, “we will talk later, Clarke, when you aren’t so upset.” She turned and moved around Clarke and started to pick up her armor, inwardly seething at Bellamy’s blundering, and cursing herself for not having spoken to Clarke sooner. 

She immediately stiffened when she felt Clarke firmly press herself against the length of Lexa’s back. She felt thin arms snake around her waist, and she felt the irritation start to melt away at the feel of the blonde’s warmth. She sighed when she felt soft lips on her neck and heard the whispered, “Leska.” She raised her hands and clasped them over the blonde’s that rested firmly on her belly. 

She turned her head bumping her cheek into Clarke’s nose, from where she rested her chin on Lexa’s shoulder, “You don’t fight fair, Klark,” she murmured as she turned and craned her neck just managing to kiss the tip of the blonde’s nose. 

“I know.” And Lexa snorted at the smugness in the blonde’s voice.

“Well at least your honest about it,” she chuckled. 

“Speaking of honesty,” and Clarke sighed as she walked around Lexa to stand in front of her, keeping her arms wrapped around the older girl’s waist, “what is going on, Leska? It’s time to tell me.” 

Lexa felt her heart slam against her ribs, and she stepped in closer to Clarke, wrapping her arms around the girl’s shoulders and hugging her close. “Don’t yell,” she whispered in the girl’s ear, “promise you will listen, Klark. Really listen.” 

Clarke felt her mouth go dry and her heart start to trip in time to her rising anxiety. She knew she wasn’t going to like this. She had originally thought anything would be better than dying, but now she wasn’t so sure. 

“Ok, I promise to listen, Leska, but you need to promise to listen to me also,” she bargained. She knew that as Heda, Lexa was not used to compromise. More often than not her word was simply law. The clans might have a governing conclave, but the real power lay in the Heda’s spirit. 

“Ok,” agreed Lexa, rolling her eyes at herself for how quickly she had caved to the blonde. She really needed to stand more firmly against the other girl’s wiles. But when she looked into soft blue eyes, she knew she didn’t particularly want to rebuff Clarke. No, she wanted to be manipulated to a certain degree by the warmth in her eyes and the hot silk of her tongue. She shuddered and then quickly tried to cover it up by stepping from the blonde’s arms. 

“Come, let’s sit and I will tell you what has happened.”

*************************************** 

“No.” 

“Klark, you said you would listen,” said the brunette in exasperation. She wanted to pull out her hair at the calm, flat reply from the blonde. The conversation had not gone well, and the blonde was being as stubborn as she had imagined she would be. 

“I did listen, Leska, and the answer is no. I will not let Lincoln or Bellamy be my champion.” 

“But, Klark, you must!” growled the brunette. 

“No, I don’t. The answer is no, Leska. I will not allow anyone to die for me.” 

“He volunteered, Klark! He is a strong warrior, he is fast, and smart. He can win, Klark!” 

“No. I will not risk his or anyone else’s life for mine, Leska.” 

“But he will win!”

“You don’t know that! Tell me, Leska, what happens if Lincoln falls? He will die and then I will die anyway.” Clarke sighed and felt her eyes burn with salt, “Leska, I chose to sacrifice Octavia once, I refuse to do it again. And if I accept Lincoln or Bellamy, I won’t just be sacrificing them, I will be sacrificing her also. I won’t sacrifice the man she loves or her brother.” She reached out and cradled the brunette’s face in her palms. “I wasn’t lying, Leska, when I told you that day in the tent that I am done sacrificing my people. I will face the combatant.” 

“Bu-but, Klark,” pleaded Lexa, “you aren’t strong enough to face a combatant. The warrior will most likely be from the Blood or Wolf clans.”

“Well, then, you have four days to train me to face my opponent,” and with that Clarke rose to her feet and headed towards the tent entry way, intent on getting started. She stopped with her hand on the tent flaps, realizing that Lexa hadn’t followed her. She turned and looked back, her heart clenching in pain when she saw Lexa sitting with her hands dangling between her knees, her head bowed. She saw the slightest tremors in the strong shoulders, and she felt the tears burn her own eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Leska, but I have to face my opponent. I must be strong and answer for what I have done. I cannot afford to be weak, and you and I both know that accepting a champion really makes me look weak. It makes me weak. Even if my champion won, I would still lose with the clans. They would never respect or accept me. I have come too far, sacrificed too much, and fought too long to give up now.”

She sat there, refusing to look up at the blonde, knowing she was correct. She wouldn’t be able to convince the blonde otherwise. She didn’t know if it was even right to try to convince her further. This was the real Clarke, the Clarke she had caught glimpses of during the war with the mountain. She had recognized that the blonde could be a leader that her people would gladly bleed for, die for. They would follow her without questions because she was strong, because she fought for them, bled for them, because she loved them; and refused to blindly sacrifice any of them any more. 

She swallowed hard, still refusing to look at her. “You are free to walk about camp, but please take Mordecai and Linus with you in case there is trouble. Meet me at the shadowed rock when the sun is high.”

Only when she heard the quietly worded agreement and then heard the blonde depart did she let the sob burst from her chest. One short, staccato burst. It exploded into the room, reminding her of the sound of the Skaikru bullets punching through the air. She felt like she had been pierced by one of their bullets, as her heart split and bled. But she only allowed herself one sob, before sitting up and jerking her shoulders back. Now was not the time for weakness or mourning. She had four days to make Clarke battle ready. 

As Octavia liked to say. They were truly fucked. 

********************************** 

Once back in her own tent, she called for Indra and waited impatiently for her to arrive. 

She stood at her table, fumbling with the scrolls, trying to keep her nervous fingers busy. She shifted from foot to foot worrying over who would be best to train Clarke. She could choose Indra or Lincoln or even Fio. Or….or she could go with Plan B. But part of her strategy hinged upon who the combatant was. She glanced up when Indra finally stepped through the door. 

“Have they chosen the combatant,” she snapped as soon as Indra had cleared the threshold. If Indra was startled by the abrupt start in conversation, she hid it well, and walked over to stand near Lexa in front of the table. 

“Sha, Heda. They have put forth the combatant.” She hesitated, her dark eyes flickering to the girl’s profile, noting the clenching of the jaw. She flicked her eyes down to the restless finger and then back again. 

“Bardou of the Wolf Clan.” 

Lexa’s fingers stilled for a moment. She had been hoping it would be the Blood Clan instead. The Wolf Clan warriors tended to be particularly vicious. The warriors often mimicked the animal they had taken as their totem. They filed their teeth into pointed edges to better rip out the throats of their enemies, and they wore special gloves that had long, hooked metal claws in the finger tips. She felt her stomach curl unpleasantly. The Wolf warriors preferred to fight in close. A typical warrior could easily shred Clarke to pieces. 

“What do we know about Bardou?” 

“He isn’t young, but he isn’t old. He doesn’t seem to be quite as vicious as others of the clan,” muttered Indra, “he is a formidable warrior, but not their best. He is impatient, but very strong. He is very strong, Heda. Very tall, but slow.”

“Bardou….Bardou…” murmured Lexa, her mind trying to scrabble on to a particular memory. The name was vaguely familiar. And then she remembered and she snarled under her breath. “Does he carry an axe?”

Indra looked at Lexa in surprise, how had Lexa known that? Did she know him? “Sha, Heda. He carries a double headed axe. It is his weapon of choice, but like his people, he files his teeth and he wears the glove on his left hand, but not on his right, as he uses the axe with his right.”

“He gave me trouble when I was trying to bring the Wolf Clan in to the coalition. I killed his younger brother, Bartho, who was an archer. He has a bone to pick with me,” she laughed, but there was not humor in it. She wasn’t sure she would ever laugh in joy again. It was Clarke who had made her laugh again after Costia, and if Clarke…She refused to continue the thought.

She turned and pinned her general with a hard stare, “I have four days to make her battle ready, Indra. I want to know everything about Bardou. What he eats during the day, how long he sleeps at night, how he polishes his axe, who is lover is,” she took a step closer to Indra, “I want to know his strengths, his weaknesses. I want to know how many times a day he shits. Do you understand?” she all but snarled at Indra. 

“Sha, Heda. I will find some discreet people in the town to report to us,” Indra hesitated unsure if she wanted to bring it up at the risk of angering the Heda. She didn’t want to remind her of the unsurmountable task ahead, but knew she needed to, “How are you going to get her battle ready, Heda?”

“I’m not. I can’t train her myself, and I had originally thought you or Lincoln, but now...” her voice trailed off as she shifted uncomfortable wondering just how Indra would take the news. But she sighed and continued, “ I have already sent for someone, and they should be here in a couple of hours. They will train Clarke.” Lexa turned and walked back towards the dais.

“And what will the clans think?” 

Lexa whirled back around and snarled, “I don’t really give a damn what they think.” She glared at Indra, knowing that she was simply asking the questions that needed to be asked, even if Lexa didn’t want to hear them. She sighed. 

“This particular person has no clan affiliation,” she smirked at Indra’s startled look, “so the clans can’t claim that I am showing favoritism, besides I am handling it through General Kane.” 

“General Kane?”

“Sha. I will tell you more later when the time comes. You are dismissed,” and she waved Indra away. She sat down in her throne with a heavy sigh, wondering if this would even work. The moment Lincoln had volunteered to be Clarke’s champion, she had known that she would need a Plan B, so she had sent her fastest riders to the Tuxent Outpost in Jes, near Polis. And then she had told Kane her plan. He had agreed to the plan, pledging that the Skaikru would uphold their end of the deal if it could be made. 

She sat there looking straight ahead, worried that the plan she had put in motion would simply lead to her own ruination, but if it saved Clarke…

“So, Fen Dal, it appears we will meet again,” she murmured to the empty room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yeah...that happened. No way was Clarke going to allow someone else to fight for her. Btw...Bardou means "wolf who carries an ax." 
> 
> Thoughts?


	27. Fen Dal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I'm having internet issues. Ugh. But bad news...I will not be posting on Thursday. I only have chapters done through 28, and I need more time to write more. So this will be the only update this week. 
> 
> That being said...I still haven't written the Trial by Combat chapter(s) yet. I probably wasn't going to get to that until at least chapter 30. Chapters 27-29 were supposed to be about Clarke's training and also spending time with Lexa and learning about the mysterious Fen Dal. I'm wondering now though, if I should basically summarize the rest of her training after chapter 29 and move on to the Trial by Combat. 
> 
> So what would you prefer? To get to the Trial by Combat sooner, or let it drag out a bit more, and concentrate on Clarke's training but also her building relationships with people, specifically Lexa?

CHAPTER 26 Fen Dal

“No, Skai Girl, you need to duck and roll and come back up immediately on your feet, or you will die.” 

Clarke glared at the female warrior, who simply smirked at her, and gestured with her sword for Clarke to get up and attack her again. Clarke sighed as she hauled her dirty, sweaty body to her feet and warily circled the slight warrior. How could one even slightly smaller than herself be so quick and strong? 

******************************

Clarke had been shocked when she had been introduced to the warrior a few hours earlier. She had waited impatiently for Lexa at the shadowed rock on the outskirts of Ton DC. It wasn’t a particularly popular spot, as legend said that the ghosts walked around in the small hollow. It was rumored that those who walked into the hollow and set foot in the barren ring surrounded by trees were swallowed by an unholy fog and never seen again. Lexa had trained in the 50’ by 50’ ring that was overshadowed by a massive rock with Anya years ago, and it had been her and Anya’s place. So Lexa had never bothered to dispel the notions of ghosts and fog. But now she was sharing it with Clarke, and it had made her heart clench when she remembered the long days she spent in the ring with Anya. 

Lexa had been clearly tense, and there had seemed to be an unusually large number of guards that had accompanied them. And somehow Clarke knew it was because of the woman in their midst. A woman who looked more like a girl. A warrior who looked more broken than whole. 

She hadn’t looked much like a warrior, her hair wasn’t braided but was stringy and matted. She wore scarred, dirty leather trousers and soft leather shoes. But she didn’t make a sound when she stepped. Her tunic was also leather, the sleeves chopped off to reveal slim, muscled arms. But it had been the tattoo, or what had once been a tattoo on the girl’s left arm that had drawn Clarke’s attention. At one time it had obviously been a long tattoo that had encircled the girl’s entire arm almost down to her elbow, but now it was littered with scars. Many of which looked like scars from burning and slicing. Very deliberate burning and slicing. As if someone had tried to remove the tattoo. Clarke had tried her best not to shudder. 

When she had finally met the woman's eyes, she had let out a startled gasp at the fierce burning gaze directed to her. She more than recognized the shadows of madness that burned in the dark eyes. But underneath the madness had been pain. Deep, unadulterated pain; and Clarke was all too intimate with this kind of pain. It resonated in Clarke, and she couldn’t help but feel a kinship with her. 

********************************** 

She was quickly brought out of her reverie by the sharp thwack of the dulled blade across her knuckles. She dropped her sword with a cry and backed up holding her already bruising knuckles to her mouth. She was exhausted and simply worn out. Her muscles ached, and she wanted to see Lexa. Lexa had only stayed a few minutes for the training, and Clarke felt her absence more keenly that she liked. When had she become such a clingy mess? Oh right, when she realized she was going to die, and had started to actually care about whether or not she died. 

“This isn’t working,” she huffed to the strange warrior who slowly lowered her blade as she backed up a few steps. She dropped the tip of the training sword into the dirt, and leaned slightly on it. She didn’t want to admit it, but she too was exhausted. She had tried to keep in shape as much as possible over the last few years, but her sword-fighting skills were rusty, and she was surprised that Heda had chosen her. Her lip curled at the thought of Heda. But she quickly schooled her features when she saw the warning look Indra gave her. 

“She is right,” she gestured tiredly towards Clarke, “there isn’t enough time to hone her sword-fighting skills. Using a sword will only get her killed.” 

Indra growled under her breath as two heads, one light and one dark, turned in her direction and stared expectantly at her. She cursed the Skai girl under her breath, the Skaikru, the damn lot of them. How had she ended up being the Skai girl and the Natrona’s babysitter was beyond her. She had better things to do, like figure out how to stop a war. This was pointless. 

She nodded, “Enough for tonight. Skai girl, return to your tent. Take Mordecai and Jazz with you. As for you,” she beckoned Fen Dal to her and then jerked her head at the remaining four guards, “take her to the stockade. Make sure she is fed.” And then Indra turned abruptly on her heel and left the stammering blonde and seething Fen Dal behind her. 

“The stockade? Why is she being taken to the stockade?” Argued Clarke as she felt Mordecai start nudging behind her arm to get her moving. Clarke dug in her heels. She had been intensely curious about the other woman, but everyone had refused to answer what few questions she had tried to ask, and it had been obvious from the look on Lexa’s face that she was not inclined to indulge Clarke’s curiosity. 

“Come, Clarke. It is time for the evening meal. I’m sure you don’t want to miss it.” 

Clarke glared at Mordecai searching the dark grey eyes for signs that she was mocking Clarke, but Mordecai’s eyes, while unyielding, were without guile. She sighed knowing that Mordecai would not be moved to answer her questions no matter how much Clarke pestered her. She would simply ask Lexa. So she nodded and followed Jazz, without further complaint. 

Mordecai brought up the rear shaking her head slightly. She had seen the look in Clarke’s eyes, and she allowed herself a little smirk. She did not envy Heda having to deal with such a willful mate. Except sometimes she did, because Clarke clearly cared for Heda. Had always cared for Heda, even when she had hated her. For one cannot love or hate without caring. Both love and hate require such strong emotions, whereas apathy…ah, apathy was the true enemy. Sometimes she wished she had someone who cared so much about her, even enough to hate her. 

******************************

Indra slipped into the tent quietly and stood by the table observing quietly while Heda sat and picked at her food. 

Lexa growled under her breath under Indra’s impassive gaze. “Stop staring, Indra. Sit down. Eat.” She gestured to an empty seat and once Indra had sat, she filled an extra plate and set it down in front of her general, who looked at her with great surprise. Lexa rolled her eyes, “shof op, Indra. Just eat.” 

“I didn’t say anything, Heda,” murmured Indra as she quickly stuffed a piece of bread in her mouth in an attempt at hiding her smirk. 

“You didn’t have to, Indra. I could hear your surprise loud and clear,” muttered Lexa, “If I want to serve one of my most loyal generals, than I damn well will without any commentary from anyone! Understand?” 

She glared hard at Indra who barely managed to refrain from smirking. Indra bowed her head and mumbled around a mouth full of food, “Of course, Heda.” 

They ate in silence. Well, Indra ate, and Lexa continued to simply move food around on her plate. “How did it go?” 

Indra quickly swallowed a mouthful of food, “It went…well…” she sighed, “It could have been worse, Heda,” she muttered, even though she knew she was lying. 

“Fuck!” yelled Lexa as she slammed her fist on the table catching Indra by surprise who grimaced to herself when she caught herself mid-jump. She eyed Lexa quietly, noting that Heda had apparently picked up some of the more colorful Skai language. She would have to speak to Octavia about it later. 

Lexa jumped up, trying to ignore the churning in her gut. She knew it! She knew bringing Fen Dal out of isolation had been a bad choice! But she had been desperate, and once upon a time, Fen Dal had been the best of her warriors. The most fearsome, and the most loyal. She had led her armies, and together they had started to bring the clans together in the coalition. And then… it had all ended in madness and blood. Once upon a time indeed. She growled. Those days were long gone. She started to pace, her steps jerky and hard against the floor, her normal stalking grace lacking. 

“If I may, Heda?”

Lexa kept pacing and then glanced up at Indra who now stood in front of the table. “Well? Go on!” and she returned to her pacing. 

“The Skai girl doesn’t have enough talent for the sword to stand against Bardou, and her hand-to-hand combat is too weak also,” Indra hesitated briefly her dark eyes widening when she heard the warning growl but she pushed forward, “but she is quick and agile. Her strength is with a short blade.” 

Lexa ground to an abrupt halt and spun around, her back to Indra as her mind whirled and tumbled. Of course! The daggers! No one but she knew that Clarke could wield the daggers with both hands. They all knew she was left dominant, but she had spent over a year mastering the daggers with her right. She smiled when she recalled how the blonde had tried to kill her with the right dagger. She couldn’t help smirking when she remembered the feel of the angry blonde in her arms, how she had pressed back into her. She shivered slightly at the thought of the firm bottom pressing in to her pelvis, and she unconsciously clenched her hands into fists. She licked her suddenly dry lips imagining she could taste the iron on her lips again. 

“Heda?” Indra wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, but there hadn’t missed the shiver that had coursed through her Heda’s frame, nor the way she clenched her fists. She let out a gasp though and backed up a step when Lexa suddenly spun on her heel, and in one long stride was suddenly in front of Indra grinning like a feral cat. Indra cursed herself for backing up, but Heda was intimidating when she was in a good mood, and now with her eyes almost glowing and her lips curled over her teeth…well, now she struck a chord of fear in the general’s heart, even after all these years. 

“Heda, what do you wish?” She swallowed thickly, just barely averting her eyes. 

“Train her with the daggers. But those who observe the training must take a blood oath to not reveal it. Tomorrow take Mordecai, Linus, and Ryder. Ask Sebastian to observe. All must take the blood oath including you.” Lexa leaned in closer, satisfied when Indra pulled back a little. Their bodies were almost touching, and Lexa snarled at Indra, “Make no mistake, Indra, if I hear any word of anyone talking about the training, I will gut you myself.” 

Indra nodded and swallowed hard. She let out a small sigh of relief when Lexa stepped back and turned to her throne. She felt her heart start to slow, and she was almost surprised that she still had her head. For a brief moment she had thought Heda would take her head simply because she could. She grimaced, imagining the tent reeked of her own fear and the musk of indolent power that still radiated off of her Heda. This was why she followed her. She could command entire armies, and lay waste with just a look those who stood in her way. 

She bowed to Heda once she was seated, and sighed in relief again when Heda appeared to be more relaxed. And then she grimaced when she realized they still needed to discuss one more thing. Well, she had lived a long life according to warrior standards. All had to face death someday, she just wished it had been on the battlefield as opposed to in Heda’s tent. 

“Heda…”she hesitated and then decided to get it over with and forged ahead, “about Fen Dal…” She took a hasty step back as Lexa raised her head. She could feel the hairs on the back of her arms sit up and take notice. Yes, this had been a very bad idea. 

“What about her?”

Indra gulped, knowing better than to trust the seemingly benign, calm voice as Heda stared impassively at her, calmly playing with her dagger as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Indra stared worriedly at the dagger wondering if she could duck quickly enough once Lexa decided to hurl it at her. She knew she couldn’t. She just hoped Heda was feeling merciful and would only wound her as opposed to actually kill her. 

“Do you…” Right, because questioning the Heda had never worked particularly well before for her, so she tried another tactic, “What does Fen Dal gain from this?”

Lexa smirked at Indra as she continued to play with her dagger. She knew she worried her general, but sometimes Indra needed to be reminded of who was in charge.

“The benevolence of her Heda, of course,” she soothed, and she bit back a chuckle at Indra’s snort.

She hesitated in playing with her dagger for a moment and looked at it. Really looked at it. She ran her fingers lightly down the blade. She had done it a thousand times. Ten thousand times. She had worn the gloss off the dagger, but it was still razor sharp, the wooden handle made smooth by years of rubbing against her skin. The wood had molded itself to her hand, and it was truly an extension of her being. She had wet the blade a hundred times with the blood of both animals and her enemies. She had wet the blade with the blood of a friend, of a traitor. She felt her heart jerk in her chest when she remembered the day it had been gifted to her…when she remembered who had gifted it to her. She shook her head irritably. Now was not the time to dwell on sentiment. She had no time, she had no room for sentiment. She wasn’t a child, but she still felt the brief sting of salt in her eyes, and she glared at her general who could see too well. 

“Fen Dal,” and she choked on the name, “is Natrona. She is Nonkru. But in exchange for her training, I have decided to release her and banish her to the Skaikru. General Kane has agreed to accept responsibility for her. She will train Clarke, and if Clarke falls, so too will she. She accepts this.” Lexa continued to stare at her dagger, fiddling with it, keenly aware at the pervasive silence that met her words. She could feel Indra’s disapproval hovering in the air between them, waiting to find a home to settle in to. 

She growled, “Speak freely, Indra, and speak true.”

Indra licked her lips, contemplating the best way to word her question, her worry, but couldn’t find any way to soften the blow that her name always caused. “Fen Dal betrayed you once, Heda. Almost killed you. The madness in her eyes has not dimmed. She will try again.” 

“Perhaps. But I’ve gotten rather good at avoiding death over the years,” but she didn’t smirk when she said it, because she was damn tired of always watching her back. “Fen Dal,” it was no easier saying her name a second time, “is smart. The years have tempered her rage and her madness. Perhaps in Abbi’s care, she will find peace,” murmured Lexa.

“Peace?” bit out Indra, her hand clenching around her sword pommel. “She doesn’t deserve peace,” she hissed, feeling the anger prick at her even after all these years, “she deserved to die on the tree. She did not deserve your mercy or your leniency then; and she doesn’t deserve it now. She does not deserve to live.” 

Lexa barked out a laugh, “Do any of us, Indra? Do any of us deserve mercy?” She dropped the dagger in her lap and spread her arms out before her, “do any of us really deserve to live, Indra? Our ancestors burned the world, and yet here we are.” She gestured around them, “They say that many years ago, so far back that no one remembers, those who burned the world could barely make fire. They lived in mud and caves and wore furs. They could not speak, their tools and weapons were bone and rock. But they learned. And then…” she swallowed hard and whispered, “and then they burned the world.” 

She dropped her hands and looked down in her lap. She was so tired. So tired of always just surviving, of scrabbling in the rock and mud, of trying to flee from her ghosts, trying to build a better tomorrow for her people. But did they really deserve anything better than war and death? 

Indra stared at Lexa, confused and worried. She had never heard her speak with such tired anger and hopelessness before, not even in the days following Costia’s death. Her anger then hadn’t been tired, but had been fresh and screaming for blood, and she had done all she could to appease it to no avail.

“Heda…I…I…” her voice trailed off. 

“How long before we burn the world again, Indra?” 

Indra gulped at the tired voice, and didn’t bother to reply. She had no reply, and she didn’t think Heda really expected one. She walked over to the table and poured a mug wine and then walked back and held it out, jiggling the mug slightly in a silent plea for her to take it. She didn’t know what else to do. It was so little, but she was gratified when Lexa took it and drank. 

“I will see that Fen Dal trains Clarke to the best of her ability. I will impart to Fen Dal,” and she curled her lips over her teeth in a dark smirk, “the importance of making sure that Clarke does not fall.” This she could do. She would push and drive Fen Dal until Fen Dal made a warrior of Clarke. This much Indra could do for her Heda. 

********************************** 

Lexa tilted her head back against her throne and shut her eyes after Indra left. She missed Clarke and wanted to be with her, but she knew that she could no longer share her tent, not until after the trial. It would not do for Heda to show too much favoritism. 

She ran her fingers over the honed blade one more time, and pressed lightly enjoying the feel of the sting as her skin broke under the blade. She felt her throat clog as she remembered dark violet eyes that used to tease her, inspire her, push her, love her; until one day the eyes had clouded with grief and madness. She felt a tear drip down her cheek. 

“Fen Dal…” she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there are a few more clues about who Fen Dal is, more specifically how she is connected to Lexa. Clues are especially in the names. 
> 
> So what did you think? Do you like the Fen Dal story line? Should I scrap it?


	28. Fen Dal II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Right…so…bad news. I will only be updating 1x a week going forward on Mondays. My wrist is still giving me a lot of problems, and I’m wearing a brace, so typing takes longer and is a bit more exhausting. Sorry 
> 
> A/N: This chapter is a little shorter than normal, but the following chapters are much longer. I am pushing the Trial back a bit, so I can concentrate on more Clexa interactions and exploring some Fen Dal goodness!

She lay on the bed furs trying to relax both her body and mind, unused to an actual bed. While still in a stockade, it was bigger than where she had been previously held; and she could hear people outside; moving, talking, laughing, running, and living. Living. It had been so long. She hadn’t thought much about living the last couple of years, she had barely even thought about surviving. She had simply existed from one moment to the next, each day passing in a blur. 

But to hear them now. To feel their laughter in the air. It was startling, and she felt their voices grate along her nerves, and her muscles trembled. She had grown used to the silence in her room, the occasional grunts of the guards, the never-ending whispers of silence that slithered through her mind. Yes, the voices she could hear now hurt and her mind buckled trying to sort out what it meant, trying to filter it into something she could comprehend. And yet, she relished it, basked in the painful symphony. There was still life on the ground, and she was part of it once again. She lay there among the living, and for a few brief moments she couldn’t see her own ghosts.

The last 24 hours had been whirlwind, and she was still reeling from all that had happened. She had been shocked when Indra and Ryder had appeared the day before, their expressions grim, Indra’s eyes burning hotly into her own. The general had snarled at her, while Ryder had simply glared impassively. She had merely grinned at Indra, knowing how much the other woman hated her for what she had done, had tried to do. 

She had bowed mockingly to Indra believing she was simply there to take her great rage out on her slight but strong frame. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. So she had been unprepared when instead, Indra had gestured for the guard to open the door, and she and Ryder had entered with a length of rope. 

She had imagined this moment a thousand different times over the course of the years, and she had never been able to decide if she would go to her death quietly with dignity, with head held high, or if she would go out in a scream of rage taking as many of them as she could with her. She was surprised by her choice when she backed away, her breath stuttering in her throat, and something a lot like fear clawing at her belly. But she had crouched lightly, readying her hands only for Ryder to shake his head at her. 

She had been floored when he had said simply, “Heda needs you.” So stunned was she, that she barely protested or fought when he and Indra bound her hands and then circled the rope around her wrists, effectively limiting almost all movement with her hands and arms. They weren’t stupid. They had learned the hard way, the damage she could inflict. 

******************************* 

She sighed as she stirred on the furs trying to make herself comfortable. She doubted she would sleep. Too much noise, too much room, too much freedom. She snorted at the thought. Freedom. She had been banished from her people. Made a Nonkru. Lexa herself had held her down and had burned and sliced her clan tattoo from her arm. She had almost bit her tongue in half so great was the pain, but she didn’t give Lexa the satisfaction of her screams. But even the pain of her burned flesh hadn’t matched the pain in her chest. They called her Natrona, but it had been Lexa who was the traitor, the betrayer. She growled under her breath, and forced herself to release the fur she was clenching in her fists. She breathed in deeply than exhaled deeply trying to calm her thundering heart, trying to regain control. 

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply like she had been taught. She forced her mind to stop thinking about Lexa. Instead she brought to mind blonde hair and fierce blue eyes. She had seen the way Lexa had looked at the blonde, and she had felt the rage burn in her belly. She wondered if she should warn the blonde of what Lexa was capable of, but she realized later when she had overheard her new guards talking that the blonde was well aware of that which Lexa was capable. And yet, it seemed as if the blonde, this Wanheda, this fallen star loved Lexa. And she remembered another time and another place and another girl who had loved Lexa. And it had been her downfall. Her bitter, violent end.

She dashed a tear away impatiently, now was not the time to poke and scourge wounds still raw after so many years. She sighed. She had mere days to make the blonde battle ready. It couldn’t be done. She would have to show her every trick of the trade, but she didn’t know if it would still be enough…and yet…and yet this girl from the sky had torn down a mountain, had done what Heda could not do. She smirked. It appeared that the girl had even managed to bring the mighty Heda to heel if the rumors were true. No one else had managed to do so…not even the one before.

******************************* 

“Again, Clarke. You must be faster, and you must strike more quickly. Do not worry about the strength of your blow, worry about the speed. You must be like a snake, dart and strike and retreat. Bardou is stronger than you, but he is slower. That is his weakness, but your strength. Now again!” 

Clarke growled under her breath, as she flipped her dagger over and over in her hand, her fingers nimbly catching it. She waited for an opening, as she and Fen circled each other. The sweat was dripping down her face, and her cheek stung with the salt. The scratch was courtesy of Fen, and she had learned quickly to keep her right arm up and protecting her face on Fen’s downward swing. 

She jabbed again at Fen’s mid-section, and swung her leg at the same time, hoping to knock the warrior off her feet, but she nimbly jumped over Clarke’s foot. Clarke followed the motion to the ground, spinning and slashing at Fen’s legs with both daggers this time, growling in triumph when she felt her blade slice into the armor covering Fen’s legs. But her victory was short-lived when Fen staggered and threw herself at Clarke punching her in the face. 

Clarke howled as she felt the skin along her cheekbone split, and she went over on her back in a cloud of dust. Fen quickly straddled her, pulling her dagger and holding it to her throat. “Never count your victory until your opponent is dead at your feet, Clarke.” She gazed down into tired but fierce blue eyes. The girl scowled and grit her teeth, bucking up her hips and seesawing her legs. She caught Fen along the side, effectively flipping them so that she was on top. She held both blades against Fen’s skin, showing her teeth in a wicked grin. 

Fen barked out a laugh, “Well done, Clarke. You are learning. We will take a short break. You need to drink to stay hydrated and strong.” She felt the blonde slowly relax and watched as she put her blades back in their sheathes, but she arched an eyebrow when the girl made no move to get off her. She simply sat there, straddling Fen’s hips, studying her intently, her eyes searching dark violet eyes.

Fen felt a warmth curl in her belly, and she let out a shaky breath. It had been so long since anyone had looked at her so intensely, since she had felt the weight of another body, and she was acutely aware of just where the girl was sitting. She abruptly bucked her hips and grabbed her around the ribs throwing her off of her hips. She scrambled off the ground trying to hide the shaking in her hands. She took a few deep breaths and when she finally turned back around, she was surprised to see the blonde sitting in the dirt leaning back on her hands, still staring intently at her. She growled. “What?” she snapped at her. 

Clarke stared at the agitated warrior, knowing just how much the weight of her gaze had started to bother the other woman. She was more than a little intrigued by her. She had never seen eyes such a dark color before with swirls of violet in them. She felt herself drawn to the haunting madness that shimmered in out and of her dark pupils. She knew all too well the pain, the desperate desire to make sense of the shambling chaos in the mind. This woman was an enigma and no one would answer her questions about her. They all kept their silence, much to her disgust. 

“Who are you?” 

Fen startled at the sound of her voice. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but not this calm inquiry. She put her hands on her hips and glared down at her, “I’m your trainer. Now get up and drink.” 

“No, who are you?” Clarke stared unflinchingly at the other woman refusing to back down despite being sitting in the dirt and being at a serious disadvantage. She waited noting the way the brown hands curled into fists only to jerk open abruptly in a parody of spasms, but Clarke knew it was intentional, a reminder to remain in control. 

“I am Fen Dal. Now get up and drink. We have more training to get done before the sun sets.” 

“No. Not until you tell me who you are.” Clarke knew she was pushing, and she wondered how long her luck would hold before this almost feral woman was on top of her pounding her flesh. But she couldn’t seem to stop. This warrior was all glittering rage, and the other warriors whispered, but no one would actually speak directly about her. And Lexa had refused to answer her few questions. 

“Skai Girl, it is important to….”

“No.” 

Fen Dal glared at the impertinent blonde who continued to simply stare at her with an even gaze, showing no emotion whatsoever. She ground her teeth together wanting nothing more than to strike the girl in front of her. She was a reminder of another time and another girl who had stared at her just as impassively. A girl who had also ignored her words, her entreaties. 

She snarled under her breath, and she heard the other warriors shift in the dirt near her. At least they recognized her for the threat she was, unlike this Skai Branwada. But she would show her. She would teach her to respect her or at least fear her, even if she had to do it at the end of a blade. Heda be damned. 

She advanced a step towards the blonde, who still sat seemingly unaware in the dirt. Didn’t this little branwada realize who she was dealing with? Didn’t she understand that Fen Dal could kill her in ways she had never imagined? Could inflict pain that would make her tear her own eyes from her head? 

“I know who you are,” whispered Clarke as the warrior slowly advanced on her. She felt her muscles tighten, and she tried to relax, tried to breathe despite every instinct telling her to jump up and flee. She was well aware of the dangerous predator that was now stalking her, and she knew she had pushed too far. And yet, she wasn’t done. She was going to push one more time, and be damned for it. 

“Oh really? You know nothing,” hissed Fen Dal as she took another step, smiling gleefully at the way the blonde’s feet twitched, and her pupils widened perceptively. She knew the signs, the blonde was fighting the urge to flee, and Fen Dal licked her lips. 

“You’re a coward.” 

Fen hissed under her breath and took another step towards the impertinent blonde who simply stared blandly at her. “How dare you,” she snarled, and she took another step feeling the anger prick under her skin, but she halted when she heard the sound of metal releasing from scabbards. Her muscles twitched violently, and her heart pounding in her chest, ricocheting in her ears. She turned her head slowly and stared at Mordecai and Linus, sneering at them both. She turned in the other direction, and just as she expected Ryder stood no more than 20 feet away with a strung arrow aimed at her neck. She laughed. 

“Go ahead, I dare you.” She held her arms out in front of her mockingly, goading them to attack. 

“Enough.” 

She hunched her shoulders when she heard the voice. That voice. The voice she heard in her dreams. She turned around fully, her back to Clarke, more than a little peeved that she hadn’t heard Heda move up behind her. She glared at her and then nodded her head begrudgingly in a show of respect, “Heda.” 

Lexa stared impassively at Fen, taking in the dirt along her arms and legs. She noticed small spots of red, where Clarke had managed to sneak through her defenses. She craned her neck slightly to see Clarke still sitting in the dirt, looking none the worse for wear, if not more than a little dirty. She had fresh bruises along her skin, and aside from the bloody scratch on her cheek, she appeared not to be wounded. She re-focused her attention on the woman in front of her, eying her for a moment before gesturing for her to move away from Clarke. 

Fen Dal glowered, her eyes flicking back and forth from Lexa’s face to the warriors on both sides. She knew she could take some of them with her, but she wasn’t sure she could take Lexa. She eyed the woman staring into the dark green eyes, and despite the blank face that showed no emotion, she knew nothing had escaped her notice. She was ready. Too ready, so instead Fen Dal nodded and moved away from Clarke going to the water skins and grabbing one, before squatting down in the dirt and drinking deeply. She ignored the Heda, but could feel the weight of her gaze slithering across her skin, and she tried not to grind her teeth. 

Lexa felt Indra move up behind her and to the side, bending down to whisper in her ear, “She is feral, Heda.” She nodded abruptly, acknowledging what Indra had said and effectively shutting her up. She jerked her head to the side, and once Indra had moved away, she turned her attention to the dirty, tired blonde in front of her. 

“Well, Klark? Are you going to sit in the dirt all day?” She smirked at the blonde who simply glowered at her in return. 

“Actually, yes, I am, Heda. I have earned a little rest in the dirt,” she replied smugly as she arched an eyebrow at Lexa, wondering what she would do. She smirked when Lexa looked slightly confused, obviously not expecting Clarke to simply sit there. She let her gaze rove over the powerful woman standing in front of her, noting the light armor, the sword and red sash hanging off her shoulder. She wore no paint, but her hair was bound in intricate braids. Despite the lack of paint and heavy armor, and even with the beautiful cheekbones and green eyes that warmed when she looked at Clarke, Lexa was still imposing. And Clarke felt the warmth creep up her neck and in to her face, as her gaze flitted over the long legs encased in tight pants.

“Does something bother you, Klark? You look a little flushed?” 

Clarke gave Lexa a dirty look, but the brunette only smirked as she held out her hand to help Clarke up. Clarke rolled her eyes, ignoring the snort from Indra, and reached up clasping Lexa’s hand, and then she was quickly rising to her feet. She stumbled lightly into Lexa, letting her body sag for a moment, pushing her body into the firm one in front of her, and she grinned unrepentantly when her lips accidentally grazed the sensitive skin of the brunette’s neck. She smirked when she felt the sharp intake of air against her chest, and she whispered into her ear, “Something bothering you, Heda? You feel a little warm.” 

Indra snorted again, rolling her eyes at the display in front of her, the blonde shamelessly pushing against the brunette. The girl had ruffled Lexa’s feathers, and she wanted to groan when she heard her normally stoic Heda stutter. This Skai Girl would be the ruin of them all. She shook her head, wishing for the umpteenth time that Anya or Gustus was here to deal with this. She had better things to do than babysit these two oblivious lovebirds. She had Second to run into the ground, and a feral warrior to worry about. 

*****************************

Lexa didn’t even notice as Indra stomped off in what could only be described as a righteous huff, but Mordecai noticed and didn’t bother to hide her smirk. She kept one eye on Fen Dal who still crouched at the edge of the ring idly tracing random patterns in the dirt with her finger. But Mordecai wasn’t fooled, for as idle and as seemingly relaxed as Fen Dal looked, she was a feral warrior, a predator. Mordecai could sense the poised stillness in the warrior. She recognized the taught anticipation that shivered in the other warrior’s muscles. 

Mordecai casually adjusted her stance, turning her body slightly to face Mordecai, indolently looking about, but still managing to keep one eye on Mordecai. She caught the tail edge of a smirk that flickered across Fen Dal’s face, and Mordecai knew she hadn’t fooled the other warrior by the careful placement of her body.

“Nervous?” murmured Fen Dal, as she continued to casually trace patterns in the dirt, not bothering to look up, but knowing that she had Mordecai’s undivided attention, despite the younger warrior’s seeming nonchalance. 

“Ready,” Mordecai steadily refuted, not bothering to spare the crouching woman a glance. 

Fen Dal stopped her idle drawing, but still didn’t bother to look up at Mordecai. Despite the seven or so feet that separated them, and the 15 or so feet that separated Fen Dal from Lexa, Mordecai knew that one wrong twitch, and the other warrior would be on her, before she could even attempt to rush Lexa. 

She glanced at Mordecai out of the corner of her eye, noting that the woman looking in Lexa’s direction; and she took a moment to gaze at the strong profile. She was long-limbed and dark with a sharp jawline. Fen Dal spared a glance at the two swords strapped to her back. Not many warriors fought with two blades at the same time. She herself had been one of the few who had once upon a time. There was something vaguely familiar about the other warrior, but she couldn’t place her. Perhaps it was the way she held herself. The quiet strength that simmered under her skin, the striking confidence of every move she made. She was a warrior to be reckoned with. 

“Do I know you?” She questioned, as she finally turned her face to partially look at Mordecai, who still refused to look at her. The warrior could only be a few years younger than her. She had probably been a Seken when Fen Dal had led Lexa’s armies. 

“Only if you do something stupid,” Mordecai calmly replied as she finally turned and stared at Fen Dal for a moment, letting her cold, gray eyes hammer home the steel of her words. She turned back to Lexa and Clarke, disregarding Fen Dal again. 

Fen Dal chuckled at the dry intensity of Mordecai’s words. Mordecai may have been the one to turn away first, but not for having lost any ground or sway to Fen Dal. No, Mordecai was above playing Seken’s games of intimidation. She knew who she was, knew what she was, and what she could do. She was young, but seasoned. Hard and unyielding. She was cold, honed steel, and Fen Dal remembered a time when she too had been the same, but she had always been hot, hammered iron; and it had caused her trouble more than once. 

She looked away, glancing about enjoying the feel of the slight breeze on her sweaty face. She poured water in her cupped hand and splashed it on her face, rubbing carefully. It felt good. There wasn’t always enough water to adequately wash, and as a Nonkru and Natrona, she was the last in line to receive water when it was scarce. She rubbed her thumb against her palm, watching as the water turned cloudy with the dirt on her hand. She rubbed again. And then again. And again. And she ground her teeth together at the redness of the water, the feel of the hot slick against her fingers. She jerked her head when she felt the slitherings in her mind. She couldn’t hear them yet, but they were there burrowing deeper and deeper. 

She clenched her fist as the cloudy water dripped off her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natrona=Traitor
> 
> Nonkru=No Clan, clanless (I made this up. This is even worse than being a traitor.)
> 
> Seken=Second
> 
> So what did you think? I added the Mordecai/Fen Dal part at the last minute.


	29. Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'cuz bathing is important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all of you who have sent well wishes for my wrist. It actually isn't getting better. The icy hot and brace can only do so much. I may have to cave and go to an actual doctor. Ugh. 
> 
> Please enjoy the sexy and funny.

**CHAPTER 28: Bath**

Clarke groaned as she dragged her clothing off, dropping the dirt encrusted items on the floor of her tent. She looked down at the mess around her feet and realized she should probably pick them up and at least try to beat the dirt out of them. Then again, her whole body ached, and she wondered if it might be more sanitary at this point to just burn the clothing. She shook her head and stepped over the clothing deciding to worry about them later.

She made her way over to the tub filled with hot water that Lexa had so thoughtfully provided. She slowly eased her body down into it, clutching at the sides of the smooth wood, worn from years of use. She hissed when the hot water came into contact with her aching skin, but after a few moments she adjusted to the heat. She leaned her head back and rested her arms along the side. She let her eyes drift shut and let the heat sooth her weary muscles.

Her serenity was soon disrupted though by soft arguing outside of her tent, which she recognized all too well. She sighed as she listened to what sounded a lot like shoving and growling. She rolled her eyes and yelled out, “Quit your shoving and get your asses in here!”

She closed her eyes again and let a little smile play about her lips as she heard them slip into the room, mumbling their apologies and jostling against each other. She laughed when she heard an outraged cry and then what could only be a punch to the arm. She opened both eyes and tried to glare at Octavia and Raven who at least had the decency to look slightly embarrassed that they had been caught acting like undisciplined toddlers. But she couldn’t maintain her glare for very long, and she flicked her hands at them instead, “Sit. And quit shoving each other.”

“Sorry, Clarke,” muttered the mechanic as she dragged a stool around and plopped down on it.

“Sorry, Clarke, but she started it!” Octavia mustered as much indignation behind her words and nimbly stepped out of the way of Raven’s fist again.

“I did not you, Branwada!”

“Stop it now. Or I will tell Lexa that you are disturbing me.” Clarke glared at them both and then smirked at the twin looks of fear that flitted across their faces. She laughed again when they both nervously looked over their shoulders as if worried that Lexa would suddenly step out of the shadows. She shook her head at them and flicked some water at Octavia who looked properly outraged.

“What do you want?” she asked, and she felt her belly tighten in trepidation as they shared a long look between them as if silently arguing who would go first.

She waited and when neither of them could seem to look her in the eye and took matters into her own hands, “so…what…did you two just stop by hoping to see me naked?” She smirked at their spluttered outrage and mutterings.

“As if!”

“You wish, Princess!”

“Then spill it, guys.”

Octavia squatted down next to the tub, and put her arms on the edge, nudging Clarke’s right arm out of the way. She let her chin rest on her forearms. Clarke was more than a little surprised as it gave Octavia a view that she certainly didn’t intend to give her. But Octavia wasn’t interested in what was beneath the water, and instead she looked straight into Clarke’s blue eyes.

“Clarke,” she whispered, her dark eyes wet, “Please….please let Lincoln fight for you.”

Clarke immediately stiffened and brought her right hand up to her chest, where she tapped it nervously. Octavia reached out and wrapped her slim fingers around Clarke’s, tangling them together. She leaned in closer, ignoring how the sleeve of her right arm dragged through the water.

“Please, Clarke. Lincoln wants to be your champion. He is strong and fast. He can win. He will win! It is an honor for him, a chance to repay what you did for him. He will fight for you.”

“Clarke, you’re strong and fast, but these warriors have scraped and fought their entire lives. You are no match for them. Please let Lincoln do this,” implored the mechanic as she shifted on her stool, the stress showing in every line of her body.

Clarke shifted in the water, ignoring the water slopping over the edge of the tub. She looked at Octavia for a moment, gently squeezing her hand, and then she leaned in resting her forehead against the younger girl’s. She felt the fingers tighten around hers and she whispered, “I can’t sacrifice you again, Octavia, I refuse to take your family from you. I have sacrificed all of you too many times. I left you to burn in Ton DC. I won’t do it again,” and she felt the tears ripple down her cheeks, and she felt the vibration from the other girl’s sobs travel down her arm and nestle in her fingers.

“But you’re my family too,” choked the younger girl as she wrapped her fingers in blonde curls. “You’re my family too, Clarke, I need all of you. Not just Bellamy. Not just Lincoln and Raven. You. I need you too.”

“Shush,” she murmured as she tilted her head and pressed her lips against the smooth skin, “I am committed to this course. You are my family, and the Skaikru are my people. I have to do this. I have to accept what I’ve done and submit myself to the law, if I don’t….if I don’t, you will all die. This is how we stop a war.”

She pulled back and gently released Octavia’s fingers, and she knew the moment when the younger girl accepted what she had said. Octavia opened her hand and let the golden curls idly sift through her fingers, until her fingers broke the surface of the water. She pulled back and landed with a thump on her bottom, and she drew her knees up, hugging them to her chest.

“I hear Lexa brought in a warrior to train you. No one will speak of her,” she said dully.

“Sha.”

“Is she good?”

“Sha, she is very good. Indra says she was once the best in all of Lexa’s armies.”

“Good,” her voice trembled, “That’s good. You get to choose your weapon, right?”

“Yes.”

“Ok good,” interrupted the mechanic, “because I have some ideas about that.”

Clarke looked up at Raven and arched an eyebrow at the gleam in the girl’s eye. Only one thing ever made that fire burn in her eyes. And she didn’t know if she should be thankful or worried. Probably both.

“Raven….?” Her voice trailed off as the girl eagerly leaned forward gesturing animatedly.

“So it occurred to me, what you need is a small weapon, but one that can make a big impact, but not too big, so I thought about using the red, and I had some extra canisters laying around,” she gestured wildly in the air almost slipping off her stool, “and I traded some cable for these little wires…and well, that’s not important.”

“Get to the point!” growled Octavia as she elbowed Raven in the leg and then winced as Raven kicked her lightly in the back.”

“Ugh…seriously, both of you stop!” growled Clarke. “Raven, maybe you should get to the point.”

“BOOM!!”

Clarke’s eyebrows shot up as she gazed at the grinning mechanic. “Boom?”

Raven nodded eagerly, “I made a small grenade. All you have to do is throw it at him. I’m working on a sticky residue coating, so it will stick to him.” She hurried on when she noticed Clarke start to shake her head. “No one else will be hurt, it will do just enough damage that if it doesn’t kill him, it will incapacitate him, and then you can finish him off.” Her voice trailed off as she noticed the look of disbelief on both Clarke and Octavia’s faces.

“What?” She crossed her arms over her chest, “Seriously…what!”

“Boom? What he actual fuck! That’s your great, genius plan, Rae?!” Octavia glared scornfully at the mechanic who in turn kicked her, only harder this time.

“Raven…” Clarke waited until she had both their attention, “the rules state that only grounder weapons can be used. No tech.” She tried to smile though when she noticed both their crestfallen faces. “It’s ok. I’m actually really good with daggers.”

Raven refused to look at Clarke, and she felt the bile gurgle in her belly. She had known it was a long shot, but she didn’t know what else to do. She had nothing else to offer but tech. She angrily wiped away the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

“It’s ok, Rae. Seriously, thank you…I mean…I…it means a lot that you would try to come up with a weapon for me,” she forced another smile but the mechanic still wouldn’t look at her, and she felt her own tears threaten.

“Rae…”

“No, it’s ok. It was stupid. I just didn’t know what else to do.”

“It wasn’t stupid, Rae,” she whispered, “Thank you for trying. I have always known you had my back.” And she smiled genuinely through the salt in her eyes this time as the other girl’s head whirled around to finally look at her. She was gratified to see Raven finally smile through her tears and nod at her.

She sighed and slapped at the cooling water. She grimaced at the dark water, at least some of the dirt had come off despite the fact that she never did get around to scrubbing. She chuckled wryly to herself and shook her head and then glanced back up at her friends.

“Are you two even allowed in here?”

“Um…well…”

“Probably not, but we didn’t bother to ask,” smirked Octavia. She slowly stood up stretching and reached out a hand to Raven helping her off the stool. She held steady as the mechanic grimaced and tried to find her balance again. It was obvious it hurt, and Clarke wanted to cry at the fleeting pain that shimmered across the girl’s face, before she managed to hide it.

“How did you get around the guards?” Clarke looked between the two grinning girls and groaned, “Do I even want to know?”

“Nope.”

“It’s better if you know nothing about our secret ninja ways.”

Clarke snorted at that and laughed, “Out. Both of you.”

“Wait!” she called them back just as they were turning to leave. She smiled at them and lifted both arms, “hugs!”

The laughed and bent down wrapping their arms around the blonde, carefully avoiding looking at what was underneath the water. Clarke hugged them and rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I have anything you don’t have,” she teased them as they both blushed.

“Yes, well, we know better than to look at what is the Commander’s,” sassed Raven as she carefully stood up, gleefully chuckling at the tide of red that swept up the blonde’s neck to flourish in her cheeks.

Clarke looked down muttering unconvincingly, “Yeah, well it isn’t Lexa’s.”

Octavia chortled in glee, “Sha. Sure. You keep telling yourself that, Clarkey,” and she gestured up and down Clarke’s body, “This is all Heda’s, and at some point she’s going to claim it.” She jumped back laughing as Clarke sent a wave of water at her.

“Ok…ok…we’re going!” The two quickly made their exit still laughing quietly.

Clarke shook her head, feeling the blush still burn her cheeks, and she skimmed the surface of the water with her palms contemplating what they had said. She looked down at her flat stomach in the slightly cloudy water and let one palm slip down her chest to her belly. She rested her hand just above her pelvis, and she felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment at the thought of what she was seriously contemplating. She hadn’t touched herself in…she groaned absurdly at the realization of just how long it had been. It had been after Finn, after the kiss in the tent, but before Lexa’s betrayal.

She leaned her head back again and allowed her hand to idly stroke the soft skin of her belly. She closed her eyes and pictured Lexa again, as she had looked earlier when she had stood over her, tall and commanding with that delectable smirk gracing her plump lips. She bit back a groan at the thought of that hot silken mouth against her own, and all she could think about was biting Lexa’s full, bottom lip.

She wasn’t sure what it was about that mouth that made her mind fritz and the heat pool in her belly. Maybe it was the way it fit perfectly against her own, how Lexa’s lips slotted in between her own. Maybe it was the way her tongue curled around her name when she whispered, “Klark.” Or maybe it was the way her tongue slid against her own, teasing and gentle and yet dominating that sent shivers down her spine.

And she bit her lip as she let her hand drift back up her belly to scrape her palm across her nipples. She chuckled under her breath as she felt them pebble. She shifted in the water feeling the wetness already pooling, and she debated whether or not she wanted to continue. She idly ran her fingers across her breast, casually strumming her fingers across the hard nipple. She felt her belly tighten in pleasure, but she let the hand drop back to her belly with a sigh. The water was cooling, and she knew that even if she did touch herself, she wouldn’t be satisfied. As much as she wanted to soothe the ache that Lexa had started, she didn’t want to do it by her own hand. She wanted Lexa.

She huffed and slapped her hands against the water and grabbed the soap and cloth, roughly scraping it across her skin. She hurried through the rest of her bath eager to get out of the cool, cloudy water. Once done, she stood and waited a moment letting the water sluice down her skin. She shook herself and then realized that she hadn’t grabbed cloth to dry herself with.

“Damnit,” she muttered as stood there shivering in the cool air. She was so wrapped up in mentally berating herself and looking around the room for a cloth that she didn’t hear the footsteps in the outer room, nor did she hear the tent flaps swish open, but she definitely heard the way her voice trailed off and the sharp intake of breath that followed.

“Klark? Klark are you in….here?” She felt her tongue trip over her words as she stood there in the small room, her eyes barely able to comprehend the naked blonde standing before her in the tub.

“Lexa!”

Clarke quickly let her body drop back into the cold water as her arms came around herself trying to block Lexa from seeing too much. She winced as the water slicked over her skin and she shivered again as she huddled in the tub. She tried to flick the hair out of her face, but it was too wet and unmanageable. She huffed and tried to peer at Lexa from behind her curtain of hair that lay heavy against her cheeks.

Lexa just stood there, staring stupidly at the blonde who was shivering in the tub of water. She finally glanced down, noticing the water pooling around the tub. She glanced back up, her cheeks burning in embarrassment, and something else that she hoped Clarke wouldn’t notice.

“Kl-Klark, I’m sorry. I didn’t…I mean…I shouldn’t have…I…I’m sorry,” whispered Lexa as her tongue refused to cooperate and articulate what she wanted to say. Her mind was still trying to catch up with her mouth, and she groaned in frustration closing her eyes and rubbing the bridge of her nose.

“I’m sorry, Klark. I shouldn’t have just walked in. I will go now.” Lexa turned to leave but stopped abruptly when she heard a small voice sounding more than a little unsure.

“Um…Leska, do you think you could get me a blanket or something? I forgot to bring some cloth with me to dry off.”

Lexa gulped and nodded quickly, scanning the room and then let out a relieved sigh when she saw a blanket laying on the bed of furs. She grabbed it and held it out to Clarke who simply stared at the blanket and then her.

Lexa shifted awkwardly wondering why Clarke wouldn’t take the blanket, and then realized to do so, she would have to stand again. She gulped at the thought of seeing more of the beautiful light skin, and she felt the blush crawl up her cheeks again. She tried not to smile though when she saw the familiar glow spread across Clarke’s cheeks also.

“Here,” and Lexa held the blanket out between both her arms so that Clarke could easily step into it, “I will close my eyes.” And she promptly closed her eyes, feeling slightly foolish standing there awkwardly holding out the blanket, waiting for Clarke to step into it so she could wrap it around her. At least she hoped Clarke would let her wrap it around her, but she truly expected the blonde to simply take it from her grasp, so she was surprised when she heard the soft voice whisper, and her stomach bottomed out.

“You don’t have to.” Clarke almost immediately wanted to slap her hand across her mouth. What was she thinking!? She had basically just invited Lexa to look at her naked form, and while she wanted to take it back, she also felt her belly ping in excitement, and she slowly stood up shivering in the cool air again. She still had her arms firmly wrapped around herself, covering her breasts.

She couldn’t help but smile at the flush in Lexa’s cheeks, and her eyes screwed tightly shut, but her lips were parted slightly, and she kept flicking her tongue out to wet them. Clarke bit her bottom lip to keep from making any sound as she watched that beautiful tongue flick out lightly.

Lexa grunted when she heard Clarke stand up in the tub, and she flicked her tongue against her suddenly dry lips. All the moisture in her body had almost immediately headed south, and she felt a little dizzy.

“Are you sure, Klark?” She wanted to give the blonde an opportunity to take back what she said. She didn’t want her to regret sharing that part of herself with Lexa, despite the fact that Lexa simply wanted to open her eyes and drink in her fill of the other girl. She shifted awkwardly and held her breath without even realizing she was doing it.

“Sha, I’m sure.” Clarke bit her lip again and felt the blush steal across her skin again, and she cursed her pale skin, knowing that the red would paint her in livid hues. She shifted and tried to relax as one green eye fluttered open followed by another.

“I…I mean…” Lexa let the air out of her lungs in a rush, and she tried not to cough at the feel of the rushing air. She stepped closer, but let the blanket droop slightly between her hands as she let her eyes rove over pink flesh. She felt her heart race in her chest and echo in her ears, and she was sure Clarke could hear it.

“You’re beautiful, Klark,” she murmured as her green eyes tangled with slightly anxious blue, and she smiled as gently as she could at the blonde, while gripping the blanket tightly between her hands to keep herself from reaching out and touching. She was gratified to see some of the anxiety fade from her eyes.

She let her gaze drift down a slender neck and strong shoulders, across delicate clavicles, and she bit her lip when she realized that the blonde was covering her breasts with her arms, but it still showed enticing cleavage. She let her gaze drift lower, down a toned stomach that had just the hint of a belly. She smiled when she realized that the welt was almost gone.

She licked her lips and twisted the blanket even tighter between her already white fingers, as she let her eyes linger on the small strip of hair between the blonde’s thighs. She was intrigued by the soft, bare, pink flesh, and she wondered if this was a Skaikru custom. She wanted to ask the blonde, but she noted the way she shifted awkwardly in the water, and the legs trembled.

Clarke wanted to squirm under Lexa’s smoldering gaze, and she felt almost as if Lexa were actually touching her as her skin pricked lightly whenever she felt the weight of her stare. She could feel the moisture in her sex, and it was uncomfortable. She wanted Lexa to touch her, but she knew if she allowed her to, there was no going back. And she wasn’t sure she was ready to be completely Lexa’s.

She shivered again as the cool air prickled her skin, and she watched in amusement as Lexa’s green eyes snapped back to her face. The green of her eyes were lost almost entirely in the gleaming pitch of her pupils, and Clarke shivered again, but for an entirely different reason this time.

“You are cold, Klark.” Lexa quickly stepped forward again, not hesitating this time as she wrapped the blanket securely around Clarke’s shivering form. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, although she wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for, just that Clarke looked uncomfortable, and seeing it made her chest twinge.

Clarke almost immediately stopped shivering as she felt the warm blanket slip across her skin, and two strong arms wrapped securely around her form. She leaned in and rested her head on Lexa’s shoulder, content to still stand there for another moment in the cold water. She could feel Lexa’s body heat seep through the blanket, and she pushed harder into Lexa, craving the warmth and strength of the other girl’s body.

Lexa tried to repress the shudder that rippled through her muscles at the feel of the solid weight pushing into her body. She was acutely aware that all that was between her hands and Clarke’s skin was a flimsy blanket. A blanket that she was starting to loath with each passing second, and she restrained herself from slipping her fingers under the edges of the blanket to feel warm skin.

She pulled back slightly, and when Clarke lifted her head in annoyance at being disturbed, Lexa pressed her lips against Clarke’s forehead, not daring to press her mouth against hers, for if she did, she was sure she would forget herself and pull the blanket off the shivering form in her arms.

She stepped back more full and stopped and in one swift movement, scooped Clarke up in her arms. She chuckled at the startled squawk that escaped the blonde’s mouth, and swiftly carried her the few steps over to the bed and set her down on it.

She knelt in front of Clarke, firmly rubbing her hands up and down Clarke’s arms, “You are cold, Klark. You should get dressed. Planting Time may be here, but the nights are still cool.” She stood quickly too her feet, realizing that the temptation was too great to continue to kneel in front of the girl with the water dripping off her face and down her neck. She wanted nothing more than to lean down and trace the path of the water with her tongue.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

Lexa turned back to Clarke and smiled, “I’m going to get you something to eat. I’m sure you are famished.” And right on cue, Clarke’s stomach gurgled loudly and Clarke blushed again. Lexa chuckled and winked at the blushing blonde who simply rolled her eyes and waved Lexa away.

Clarke sat quietly on the bed smiling to herself. She had been surprised when Lexa had scooped her up and walked the few steps to the bed and set her down. She was deceptively stronger than she looked. Perhaps it had something to do with the Spirit of Heda, because Lexa was quite slim and only about an inch taller than herself. She snorted, because while she was only an inch shorter than Lexa, she was certainly more solid than the brunette. But Lexa hadn’t seemed particularly strained when she carried Clarke. And truth be told, she had felt secure in Lexa’s arms. Safe. Sheltered. Wanted.

She stood up and quickly dried off pulling soft pants and a long sleeved shirt on before sitting back on her bed while she tried to untangle her hair. She tilted her head and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to work out the snarls. Long, flowing hair was not conducive to being a warrior, and she decided that she needed to put braids in it, beyond the one little braid that wrapped around her head. More braids would contain it.

Her fingers stilled as she thought about what more braids would look like, what it might possibly mean. Did it mean anything beyond the fact that she would look more like she part of the Trikru? Her chest warmed at the thought, and she knew she was ok with that. She was ok with the idea that other clans might mistake her for Trikru. She decided to ask Lexa later about putting in more braids. She wondered if certain types of braids meant anything.

She finished untangling her hair and decided to simply let it hang down for now. She scooched further back on the bed and crossed her legs and waited for Lexa to return. She rolled her eyes when she heard her belly rumble, and she chuckled to herself.

She was fiddling with the leg of her pants and slowly pulled it up over her calf noticing the large bruise already taking shape courtesy of Fen Dal.

Fen Dal. Now she was a mystery that no one seemed eager to unravel but she. Whenever she mentioned the woman to Lexa, Lexa would simply give a short shake of her head, her eyes growing cold and the muscles in her jaw flexing from gritting her teeth too hard. Clarke had decided not to push Lexa on it, because despite the coldness in her eyes, she saw something else. Lingering pain. And Clarke wasn’t quite prepared to poke at what were obviously old wounds.

So instead, she sat up straighter and started her breathing exercises. Spira from the Boat People had tried to teach her how to master her breathing, how to tame her mind and bring her body under control, but she had been a poor student, too filled with rage and pain to acknowledge or realize the benefit. But now…she knew she needed to. She needed to focus, to hone her will. So she breathed in deeply and exhaled in a controlled whoosh, slowly emptying her mind one breath at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....thoughts?
> 
> oh my friggin word!! Do you know how long I spend reformatting every chapter that I copy and paste into HTML format?! And i could have done Rich Text all the time. What. The. Hell. *face palm.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is one of my favorite chapters. I actually conceived this chapter months ago, and have anxiously been waiting for everyone to read it. This circles back to the arguments of whether or not Lexa should have been punished for her betrayal… Hope you enjoy.

**CHAPTER 29 Stars**

Lexa found her like that sitting motionlessly, breathing slowly and deeply, a small smile playing about her lips. The blonde didn’t even flinch when Lexa walked in and set the food next to the bed. Lexa smiled to herself and quietly sat down next to the blonde, but not too close so as not to disturb her. She toed off her boots and swung her legs up on the bed sitting in back of the blonde. She lay down on the bed, tucking her arms under her head, and simply stared at the blonde’s profile. She recognized the meditative pose and the deep breathing. She smiled realizing that perhaps Spira had been more successful with his pupil than he had originally thought. She closed her eyes and let herself relax as the blonde’s gentle, deep breathing slowly lulled her to sleep.

The shadows had grown long in the tent as the candles had slowly burned down. Lexa blinked a few times letting her eyes get used to the dimness. She listened carefully to the slow and deep breathing of the girl next to her, and she let herself smile at the weight of the blonde against her side. It felt good. It felt right, and her smile trembled slightly at the thought. She lifted a hand and let her fingers gently tangle with the golden waves splashed across her chest. She hummed softly to herself as she let the hair sift through her fingers. She winced when some of the delicate hairs snagged on the callouses of her palm and jerked at the blonde’s head.

Clarke huffed quietly in her sleep and shifted when she felt the pricks against her scalp. She blearily opened her eyes and pushed herself up on her elbows and stared into soft green eyes. She smiled and ducked her head so she could rub at her scalp where the small hairs had pulled.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” murmured the brunette as she untangled her fingers from Clarke’s hair. Clarke stopped rubbing and shook her head amusedly.

“It’s ok,” she whispered, as she scooted forward and pressed her lips against a strong jawline and then dropped her head back down on Lexa’s shoulder. “I enjoyed it,” she muttered sleepily, as her eyes slowly closed.

“My hands are rough. Hard,” Lexa sighed quietly as she lifted her right hand and simply stared at it in the waning candle light. She felt a heaviness in her chest that had nothing to do with the blonde’s arm wrapped around her torso. She growled low, the bitter resentment rumbling in her chest briefly. “These are hands of war.”

Clarke lay quietly, her head on Lexa’s shoulder staring at the hand still hanging in the air. She gazed at the long, strong fingers. She could see the callouses from Lexa’s sword along the top ridges of her palm. She flicked her eyes up to green eyes, and was slightly surprised to see the cold glare directed at the brunette’s own hand.

Clarke reached up and wrapped her fingers around the hand and pulled it down towards her. She met slight resistance from the brunette, but Clarke was firm and gave her a pointed glare and then grinned unrepentantly when the brunette rolled her eyes and huffed at her. But still the brunette gave in and watched curiously as Clarke shifted against her, tucking her body more firmly into Lexa’s side, but managing to free both her arms and hands.

She wrapped both hands around Lexa’s hand and dug her thumbs into Lexa’s palm and started gently massaging the sinewy flesh. She was careful not to break open the shallow cut in her palm. When she had asked about the cut days ago, Lexa had simply shrugged, stoic as usual; and Clarke had decided it wasn’t worth pursuing.

Lexa shifted uncomfortably against Clarke, her body strangely tense. She watched for a moment as Clarke simply continued to massage the muscles in her hand, and she shifted again and suddenly curled her fingers down, catching Clarke’s thumbs with her fingertips and folding them in to her palm.

“What are you doing?” Her voice trembled slightly, and she grit her teeth annoyed with herself. But she didn’t uncurl her fingers from Clarke’s thumbs, even when the blonde arched one eyebrow and stared pointedly at her. Clearly she wanted Lexa to cooperate, but still Lexa felt uneasy, and couldn’t even explain why. She felt out of her depth and unsure. The tenderness in which Clarke gazed at her hand, the firm gentleness of her thumbs pressing into her flesh, the warmth in her indigo eyes, and the flush of her lips caused her stomach to swirl. It had been so long since such care had been taken with her, not since Costia. Perhaps not even with Costia.

She startled when she felt warm lips press against her fingernails, and she reflexively loosened her grasp on Clarke’s thumbs. She stared at Clarke in surprise, her mouth parting slightly as she felt the lips drop tiny kisses on each finger. She smiled slightly when Clarke’s nose nudged at the very tips of her fingers putting slight pressure against them, and she finally uncurled them fully. She shivered when she felt those soft lips press into her palm, and a wet tongue trace the healing cut.

Lexa’s eyes fluttered closed and her breath quickened slightly. Clarke smiled into the other girl’s palm and not so subtly rubbed her parted lips along the callouses, licking and nibbling at them. She hummed when she felt the rough skin snag against her tongue, and then she soothed the coarse patches of skin with her tongue.

She ran her tongue gently up each side of the long fingers, and she smiled when she felt them tremble against her lips. She pulled back and gazed at the shining fingers and then continued massaging Lexa’s hand.

“This is the hand that formed the coalition,” she kissed the pad of Lexa’s pinky, “this is the hand that wields the sword that protects her people,” and she kissed the pad of her ringer finger; “this is the hand that freed her people from the mountain,” and she kissed the pad of her middle finger; “this is the hand that feeds the goufas,” and she kissed the pad of her index finger; “and this is the hand that extends peace to the Skaikru,” and she kissed the pad of her thumb.

Lexa lay there looking at the crown of golden hair, mesmerized by the lips that were still pressed against her thumb. She felt the tears burn down her cheeks, and she buried her other hand in golden curls and gently tugged until Clarke looked up at her. She wrapped both arms under the blonde’s arms and tugged until Clarke pulled herself up Lexa’s body and straddled her hips. Lexa pushed herself up and wrapped both arms around the blonde straddling her lap and buried her face in Clarke’s chest.

Her arms trembled and her shoulders jerked as she fought to not break down entirely in Clarke’s arms. Her chest was tight and warmth curled in her belly and part of her desperately wanted to plead with Clarke to run away with her and never look back. Leave behind their people and responsibilities, their burdens, and their sins. But she couldn’t ask her to, she couldn’t allow herself to think on it, but she briefly wished in another time, in another life, they could be free.

Clarke held the trembling girl in her arms, running her hands up in down the strong back. She murmured nonsensical words to her that didn’t make sense to either of them, but still managed to sooth them both. And as her hands slipped to the small of Lexa’s back, she felt the thin shirt Lexa wore curl up slightly, and her fingertips grazed warm skin. She pressed lightly into the warm skin and felt Lexa tense and then relax. She smiled when she felt the hum against her breast, and she shifted slightly on Lexa’s lap pulling the older girl tighter into her body.

She hesitated briefly and then let her fingers dip under the shirt and slowly smooth up the warm flesh. “Is this ok?” her voice quivered slightly, and she shifted again on Lexa’s lap, her fingers trembling against her skin. She hesitated waiting for permission, and she let out a little sigh of relief when she felt Lexa nod.

Clarke tucked her head down and pressed her cheek to the top of Lexa’s head. She wondered briefly if Lexa could even breathe, since her face was tucked rather firmly in the blonde’s breasts. When she started to pull back slightly, she felt strong arms tighten, and she felt the disgruntled murmur against her breast from the brunette. She chuckled and simply snuggled the older girl more firmly in her arms.

Her fingers continued skimming lightly and slowly up the brunette’s back, and she marveled at the muscles she could feel twitching under her sensitive fingertips. She continued mapping her skin and the shirt rode up with her hands, and she felt Lexa shiver in the cooling air. She let one hand fall back down to the small of her back, and the fingers of her right hand bumped against raised flesh just as she was preparing to drop her hand and let Lexa’s shirt fall back across her back.

Lexa tensed when she felt Clarke’s fingers bump the scars on her lower left shoulder blade. She felt the warm fingers still against the edges of the scars, and she forced herself to relax. She twisted her face out of its warm haven in Clark’s breast and looked up and murmured, “It’s ok.”

Clarke had lulled her into a sense of comfort with her gentle touches, and couldn’t bear the thought of leaving the warmth of her sheltering arms. She flexed her arms around the girl’s waist and laid her ear against her chest, smiling at the sound of the pounding thumps.

Clarke slipped her left hand into the heavy mane that trailed down Lexa’s back and held her head gently to her heart, and then she let the fingers of her right hand gently slip and slide over the smooth scars. She traced the markings, her fingers edging what felt like 11 different scars all shaped the same. Despite never feeling them before, they somehow felt familiar under her fingertips; and she belatedly realized that she had seen such markings before. On Tris. On the grounder she had killed that day to free herself and Finn.

Her hand stilled with the knowledge of what they were, and she fought back her grimace, and lightly rubbed each scar. But as she continued to run her fingers over the smooth, raised flesh it occurred to her that there were too few scars. For surely Lexa had more kills than eleven. She pulled back slightly and looked down at Lexa, tugging her hair gently until she looked up at her with wide green eyes.

“These are kill marks?”

Lexa started into shining blue eyes, and swallowed hard, wondering if she was ready to show Clarke the marks, wondering if Clarke was ready to see them. She minutely shook her head and whispered, “No.”

“Oh.” Clarke continued to absently trace the scars, wondering if she should pursue it. Somehow she knew it was important, that they meant something. But her fingers stilled when she heard the rough whisper.

“Do you want to see?”

She looked down into dark forest eyes that looked slightly anxious, and her gaze flickered to the older girl’s bottom lip that was captured between strong, white teeth. Lexa was worrying it, and Clarke couldn’t resist as she hunched down, awkwardly curving her back so she could press her mouth against the lip Lexa was abusing. She smiled when she swallowed the other girl’s sigh of contentment, and she ran her tongue lightly against her bottom lip, then pulled back and dropped little kisses on her lips. She chuckled when Lexa giggled against her mouth, and they both pulled back to look at each other.

Clarke rested the palm of her hand flush against the scars, her other hand now under Lexa’s hair, curved around a slim neck. She was gently massaging the tight muscles there, and Lexa hummed in satisfaction, her eyes drooping closed.

But her eyes flew open when she heard Clarke whisper “Yes” against the corner of her mouth where she had pressed her lips. She turned slightly, captured Clarke’s lips with her own, and she basked for a moment in the warmth and silky heat of her mouth.

“Ok.” Lexa pulled back, pushing lightly against Clarke’s hips so she would wiggle back. She patted the girl’s thighs once she had skootched back, forcing herself not to linger on the solid muscles that were bracketing her own thighs.

She reached down, crossing her arms and grabbed the hem of her shirt and then pulled it up quickly and over her head, smirking at the look of shock on the blonde’s face before her view was cut off by her shirt passing over her face. She tossed it to the floor and then unabashedly leaned back on her hands and smirked at the glazed look on Clarke’s face.

“What’s wrong, Klark?” she husked to the girl who appeared frozen in her lap.

“I…nnnnnnnng,” choked out Clarke as her eyes remained glued on Lexa’s smirking face. She had gotten just enough of a glimpse of dark golden skin when Lexa had lifted her shirt to know that the older girl wasn’t wearing anything underneath it. And she had almost immediately felt heat start to curl in her belly. She probably should have been surprised by how quickly she felt aroused, but Lexa had always had a potent effect on her. And the older girl’s dark eyes, and slightly parted lips weren’t doing anything to dissuade her own body from reacting to her.

“Problem, Klark?” Lexa smiled, enjoying the flush that bloomed across the girl’s neck and cheeks, and she almost snorted with laughter when the flush darkened considerably when she whispered, “You can look, you know. I did. Fair is fair.”

Clarke finally managed to focus and narrowed her eyes at Lexa’s smirking face. She leaned forward, cupping Lexa’s face in both her hands and nuzzled along her cheeks, whispering her lips across smooth skin that was quickly flushing under her touch. She hitched forward in Lexa’s lap, and gazed teasingly into wide green eyes, as she let her thumbs trace along high cheekbones.

“You’re right, Leska,” she husked, “fair is fair. But who wants to play fair?” and she slowly dragged her palms down her neck, down her clavicles and further down, until her cupped palms were just hovering over Lexa’s warm flesh. She raised one eyebrow at Lexa, waiting to see what she would do, and she practically purred when Lexa pushed up into her palms.

Clarke let out a wavering sigh as she felt hard nipples scrape her palms, and she squeezed gently, feeling the way the other’s girl’s breasts fit into the palms of her hands. She rotated her wrists, and dragged her fingers down the sides of her breasts and then under until she cupped them in her palms.

Lexa let out a soft grunt when she felt Clarke cup her breasts and feel the weight of them in her palms. She tried not to think about how perfectly her flesh fit in the blonde’s hands, how her skin tingled and nipples hardened when the other girl dragged her thumbs over her nipples. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, and she jumped slightly when Clarke squeezed a little more firmly, and then suddenly Clarke's hot mouth was pressing against her own, and Clarke’s tongue was forcing its way past her lips and her teeth.

Lexa groaned, but it was swallowed harshly by Clarke as she all but plundered Lexa’s mouth; and Lexa could do nothing but let her. She shifted, uncomfortably aware of the dampness between her thighs as Clarke continued to rub her thumbs across her nipples, only to then roll them between her fingertips, pinching them lightly.

Her arms shook with the force of holding up the weight of her own body but also Clarke’s, as Clarke continued to lean in to her, and then Lexa simply let her shaking muscles go; and she fell with a thump against the furs. She winced when Clarke’s teeth scraped hard against her lip, but instead of pulling back like she had assumed Clarke would do, Clarke instead pressed her body down into Lexa’s, letting her legs slide down along her own.

Clarke pushed hard into Lexa’s body, and started to wiggle her hips, and push her legs between Lexa’s. Thankfully the brunette took the hint and opened her legs and Clarke settled in the cradle of her thighs, humming excitedly at the feel of the other girl’s heat through her pants. She pulled back slightly, and nibbled at the plump lips beneath her own, alternating between licking and sucking gently. She slid both palms under Lexa’s bare shoulders and hummed again at the feel of hot skin flushing in her palms. She nipped and licked along the strong jawline, letting her tongue sooth the little bites she left in her wake as she made her way down the slim neck.

Lexa groaned and tightened her arms around Clarke’s torso as she held her firmly to herself. She squeezed her thighs, and felt the warmth of Clarke’s thighs through both layers of pants. She imagined briefly what it would feel like again to cradle the strong body with her own, their hot, sticky flesh slipping against each other. She groaned at the thought and jerked lightly when she felt a particularly hard nip against her neck, but then she relaxed when she felt the hot tongue sooth the bite.

She would have to hide the mark somehow tomorrow, but she decided she could worry about that later as she felt Clarke shift against her, and press her pelvis into her own heat. Her hands slid under Clarke’s shirt, and she smirked at the shiver that ran through the blonde as she skimmed her hands along her back, enjoying the feel of the silky skin sliding against her palms.

Clarke shivered and pressed harder into Lexa causing her to grunt, and she mumbled a quick apology and turned her attention back to Lexa’s delectable neck that was flushed and shiny. She grinned in pride at her handiwork, and as she dipped her head again to kiss and lick at the flushed, sensitive skin; her palms scraped against the scars again on Lexa’s back. She hesitated and pulled back, her eyes searching Lexa’s. She felt the weight of the scars against her palm, and she sighed and dropped her forehead to rest against Lexa’s.

“Seems we might have gotten a little carried away,” she mumbled and then laughed, but her voice was devoid of humor.

Lexa grunted and muttered under her breath and then sighed as she let her arms drop from around Clarke’s back. She looked up at the ceiling of the tent, and tried to bring her body back under control, willing the wet heat to leave her body, and the fog from her mind.

“They are important, aren’t they?”

“Sha,” she whispered as she finally tore her gaze from the tent and looked at Clarke’s flushed face.

“You are beautiful,” she whispered as she leaned up and pressed her mouth against the slightly sweaty forehead. “Up,” she commanded quietly as she pushed gently at Clarke, and she sighed in regret once the blonde sat up and pulled herself off of Lexa’s body. She fisted her hands in furs, willing herself to not grab Clarke and pull her back down into her body.

Clarke scrambled off Lexa and sat against the raised pile of furs, her breath fluttering harshly against her lips and her heart still pounding deliciously against her ribs. She tried not to stare at the beautiful bronze skin in front of her, but she couldn’t resist as her gaze slid down over small, pert breasts; down to tightly toned stomach; and further down to where the firm flesh flowed into a cut vee, only to be obscured by dark pants.

She licked her dry lips and sat back and muttered, “You really need to put your shirt back on.” She averted her gaze as Lexa sat up, pulling her legs up to her chest, and then carefully maneuvered herself to sit in front of Clarke.

Clarke was surprised, but obediently opened her legs to accommodate for the brunette who sat on the edge of the bed, her hips between Clarke’s ankles. But she quickly realized that she was now afforded an unobstructed view of Lexa’s back, and her mouth dropped open in surprise as she gazed at the beautiful swirls of ink decorating the other girl’s back.

Clarke leaned forward and grabbed Lexa’s hips, pulling her back slightly on the bed so she was within touching distance. She ran her fingers over each swirling line, marveling at how the lines curved around individual muscles, how they fit so beautifully in the skin before her. They flowed together and when Lexa shifted and flexed the muscles in her back, the lines undulated in gentle waves.

Clarke couldn’t resist and leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of the tattoo just below her spinal knob. She hitched forward so there were only a few inches between their bodies, and then she gazed at the scars on the lower left shoulder blade. She reached up and traced them again, and realized that each circular scar was actually a four-pointed mark. Eleven four-pointed marks splashed across her lower left shoulder blade, not in any particular pattern. She pulled back and gazed at the ink around the marks. Unlike the greens and blue of her other tattoo, this ink was black with dark blue shading, and the eleven scars gleamed palely against the dark swath of ink.

“So dark,” murmured the blonde absently as she continued to run her fingers over the bumps and swirl her fingertips along the ink, “eleven scars,” she murmured.

Lexa held herself still waiting for Clarke to slowly work it out for herself, waited for the moment when it would dawn on the blonde what it represented, what it meant. And she felt the moment like a great weight on her chest, a coldness seeping in to her muscles when the fingertips froze against her skin, and she felt the harsh burst of air prickle against her skin.

“Stars. They’re fucking stars, aren’t they?” gritted out the blonde, and Lexa could only nod, hanging her head. She didn’t even flinch when she felt Clarke’s fingers dig in to the skin of her back just under the scars.

Clarke felt the nod like a blow to her chest, and she couldn’t breathe for a moment as she remembered standing there in front of the mountain begging Lexa not to leave. She dug her fingers harder into the skin of Lexa’s back, relishing the smallest flinch from the brunette. She inhaled harshly and leaned forward, pressing her chest into Lexa’s back, wrapping her arms around the girl’s waist. She dug both hands in to the thin flesh stretched over her ribs, knowing she was going to leave bruises and not caring.

“Why eleven? Why do you have eleven fucking scars on your back?” she uttered hoarsely against Lexa’s ear, her breath sharp and uneven, her heart pounding. She grit her teeth, feeling the old anger surge under her skin and prick at her muscles. She waited for Lexa to speak.

Lexa carefully crossed her arms, easing her fingers over the blonde’s hands, trying not to wince at where they dug in to her ribs. She rested her fingers against the back of Clarke’s hands, gently caressing the hard fingers.

“Not eleven. Forty-four.” She stilled the shake in her voice, and then minutely shook her head realizing that being strong wasn’t the point, so she let the tremor seep through her voice, she let the tears clog her throat, and her voice broke in pieces, “One point for each of the Skaikru that I left in the mountain.”

Clarke could barely breathe and her throat itched and burned, but she managed to whisper “why?”

“So I would never forget what I had done. So I would carry my shame with me always.”

Lexa turned slightly when she felt the hard fingers relax under her own, and she tried not to breathe a sigh of relief as the pain in her ribs immediately eased. She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze tangling with wet indigo. “The Heda never carries the scars of her kills. It is frowned upon for the Heda to be marked in such a way. But I did it in Polis. I had the brand made,” she swallowed hard remembering the pain of the burns, “I had Indra burn them into my back.”

She turned in Clarke’s arms when she felt them loosen, so her shoulder was against Clarke’s chest, and she craned her head, her lips trembling as she saw the tears slide down the pale cheeks in front of her.

“I’m sorry, Klark, for the pain I have caused you. It hurt so much leaving you there, so I burned my pain and shame for what I had done into my flesh, so I could never escape what I had done, so I would never forget. These are the marks of my sins, Klark. My greatest sin. Abandoning the Skaikru. Abandoning you. This is my punishment,” she muttered hoarsely.

Clarke choked on a sob, and pushed at Lexa’s shoulders, maneuvering her back around so her back was to Clarke’s front, and then she leaned forward and pressed her mouth against first one scar, then another, then another; until she had pressed tender, wet kisses to each star. She pressed her cheek against the sky of stars and smiled when she felt the pound of Lexa’s heart, and she closed her eyes. Another tear slipped down her cheek when she realized why the scarred landscape had been positioned in such an awkward place. The swath of sky and stars had been inked and burned directly over the back of Lexa’s heart.

“It’s ok,” she murmured over and over again as she rested her cheek against the stars, her fingers gently soothing the bruises along the ribs. Later she would apologize, later she would kiss every bruise, later she would make it right. But right now, she simply cradled the brunette in her arms, the anger gone, in its place, a tender warmth burning through her tired muscles. And she smiled at the feel of Lexa’s heart pulsing through the stars of the forty-four.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So anyone wanna guess what happens next chapter? Hmmmm....? *wiggles eyebrows and tries to smirk at the same time. Is unsuccessful* 
> 
> Thoughts?


	31. Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is self-explanatory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right so here it is. I'm posting early! Woot. They get their mack on. Let's face it. This is probably the only reason you are still reading this. :P Oh and the chapter is 8,000 words. You're welcome. I tried to make it only about sex, but a few feels slipped in, and the girls insisted on a little processing. I tried to hurry them along, but one of them gave me the finger (I'm looking at you, Clarke. Bad!) 
> 
> Oh one more thing: Disclaimer: Writing sex scenes are nor my forte. I should probably write them more often, and maybe I will get better at writing them. Oh and the next chapter is gonna be sex too, 'cuz they didn't finish this chapter. This is what happens when girls have sex. It takes a while! All that damn processing. Oh right...without further ado...Boom!

Long moments passed and Clarke’s tears dried upon her cheeks, leaving behind a tacky residue. Her throat was dry and sore from fighting back so many tears. She was exhausted, but felt a strange comfort in the exhaustion that plagued her muscles and her heart. As much as she was a little bit horrified by the pain that Lexa had inflicted upon herself, she was also a little bit relieved to know that Lexa hadn’t just simply walked away, hadn’t gone “unpunished.” While Lexa could never truly regret saving her people at the cost of the Skaikru, Lexa had still hurt for what she had done. She had punished herself, and perhaps it was a far more fitting justice that she had done it by her own hand.

She sighed quietly as she rested her cheek against Lexa’s strong back. She could feel the stars burning against her neck, and she wondered if they too would imprint upon her skin just as they had seared into Lexa’s. She almost hoped they would. But the candles had almost burned out, and she felt Lexa shiver slightly in her arms. The cool air prickled along her arms, and Clarke tightened her grasp momentarily; and then pulled back slightly, pressing her lips to the back of Lexa’s neck.

Lexa sighed and pushed gently against Clarke’s grasp, but Clarke just grunted and pulled her more firmly back into her body. Lexa sighed and patted Clarke’s hands lightly, “It’s getting colder, Clarke, and the candles are almost out.” She pushed again against Clarke’s arms and slipped out of them, once Clarke finally conceded with an ill-disguised huff of annoyance.

Lexa hid her smile with a dip of her head and walked across the small room, setting up and lighting a few more candles. She hesitated near the food, her back still turned towards Clarke. She idly picked at the soft bread on the tin plate, her fingers lingering over the food. She couldn’t quite bring herself to turn and look at Clarke. While she was very aware of the fact that she was only half-clothed, she wasn’t embarrassed by her nudity or even her scars. She was more worried about what she would see in Clarke’s eyes. While the blonde’s initial anger had seemed to pass, she wondered if they could ever get past all that had happened. Maybe it was simply too much. They all had their limits, and perhaps Clarke had found hers.

She turned her head just enough to see Clarke out of the corner of her eye. The blonde was staring quietly at her, her face impassive, but softness lingered around the edges of her mouth. Lexa bit her lip and asked, “Are you hungry, Klark?”

Clarke tilted her slightly at Lexa. She let her gaze roam over the strong back, her eyes lingering briefly on the stars. She frowned slightly when she noticed other scars along the older girl’s back. Some looked deep, jagged and rough. She winced at the finger shaped bruises already forming along the older girl’s ribs. She needed to fix that, make it right. Her gaze flitted back over the scars, and she shuddered at the thought of how much they must have hurt, especially as the jagged edges looked as if she hadn’t received proper medical care when she was wounded. Just another reminder of the brutality of life on the ground.

She wiggled slightly on the bed, as she let her gaze drift down Lexa’s back, over her rounded backside and down long legs. She bit her lip and nodded vigorously, “Sha, Leska.”

Lexa breathed a sigh of relief at the softness in Clarke’s voice, and she grabbed the plate of bread and root vegetables and turned to face Clarke fully. She took a step closer and held the plate out to Clarke expectantly. She jiggled the plate after a moment as Clarke simply stared at her not making a sound. She started apprehensively at Clarke for a moment, worried that the girl wasn’t saying anything. She was simply looking at her, well, maybe not so much her but was staring at her… Lexa smiled when she realized that Clarke’s eyes were slightly glazed over and her breathing was a little erratic. Her gaze was certainly not pinned on Lexa’s face, but a bit lower.

“Klark. Klark!”

Clarke jerked suddenly, the heat rising in her cheeks when she realized she’d been caught staring at Lexa’s breasts. Although to be fair, she didn’t think she could be blamed. The brunette was beautiful. She finally tore her gaze from dark golden flesh and stared at the plate that Lexa was still holding out in front of her. Right. Food. She took the plate and then set it on the floor, off to the side. She scooted to the edge of the bed, her legs dangling off. She opened her legs a bit and gestured with both hands for Lexa to come closer.

Clarke swallowed hard and nervously licked her lips when Lexa stepped closer, so that her legs were pressed just barely at the inside of Clarke’s knees. Clarke slowly raised her arms and wrapped her hands around the back of Lexa’s thighs. She gazed at the taught stomach in front of her and wanted nothing more than to lean in and feel the soft skin against her lips. She looked up at Lexa, noticing how her eyes had darkened. She smiled when Lexa trailed her fingertips up the length of her arms, then back down again.

“I thought you were hungry, Klark?”

“I am. Just not for food.” Clarke stared brazenly up at Lexa, hoping she wouldn’t say no. And when the brunette opened her mouth, Clarke rushed on hoping to stem any sort of worry or protest. “I’m ready, Lexa. I’m finally ready. It’s yet.” She stared pleadingly up at Lexa, hoping she would understand, hoping she could hear what the blonde hadn’t said yet.

“Are you sure, Klark?” Lexa wanted nothing more than to push the blonde back on the bed, kiss her, and feel the slide of her skin against her own. But she had to be sure that Clarke was ready, that Clarke wouldn’t regret it in the morning. For if she did, Lexa didn’t know what she would do, how she would cope.

Instead of answering directly, Clarke leaned in and pressed her face against Lexa’s abdomen. She reveled in the sharp rise of her stomach as Lexa suddenly inhaled. She smiled against the soft skin, and pressed an open mouthed kiss to her stomach. She wrapped her arms fully around Lexa’s legs, pulling her in to stand firmly between her open legs. She turned her face and gently rubbed her cheek along Lexa’s stomach. She smiled as she felt Lexa’s muscles twitch under her cheek. She sighed happily when she felt long fingers slip through her hair and strong hands pull her in tighter to the older girl’s flesh.

“Kl-Klark,” Lexa grimaced when her voice shook. She took a deep breath and let it out abruptly. She felt warm lips along her skin again, and as much as she wanted to melt into the blonde’s arms, she pulled back just enough to coax the younger girl to look at it. She gently guided her face up so she could look into warm, blue eyes.

“Klark, I haven’t done this since,” she shifted uncomfortably and then muttered under her breath, “not since Costia.”

Clarke stared dumb-founded at the uncomfortable girl. This was a surprise. Costia had been gone for years, and she had assumed that Lexa had eventually taken other lovers. She swallowed hard, suddenly feeling a bit more nervous that Lexa might not have been as experienced as she had originally assumed. “Ok. And before Costia…?” she let her voice trail off as Lexa just barely shook her head.

“No. There was only ever Costia,” Lexa let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d actually been holding. She shifted nervously and then plunged on ahead, “Costia was the only one I ever loved,” her voice trailed off and she swallowed hard and whispered, “until...” her voice trailed off again, and she raised her head slightly, averting her eyes, so she wouldn’t have to see Clarke’s reaction. She was a coward, but she couldn’t bring herself to stare into Clarke’s eyes, or even her face, too afraid of the rejection she might see.

Clarke pressed her face into Lexa’s stomach, her mind spinning trying to make sense of what she had said, and it kept pounding away inside her head, “until... Until... Until...” She deliberately slid her hands up over the back of Lexa’s thighs; up over her bottom, briefly cupping it and giving the muscles an experimental squeeze; and she chuckled when Lexa lurched into her. But it got the brunette’s attention, and she finally looked at Clarke.

Clarke slid forward more on the bed, opening her legs wider, and pulled Lexa even more tightly between her legs, until the other girl’s knees hit the edge of the bed. She smiled when Lexa instinctively grasped her shoulders to steady herself.

“There has only ever been Finn, but I didn’t actually love him. I cared for him, and I loved the idea of him. The boy who wanted peace. Until he didn’t.” She frowned but continued, “I didn’t really love him, not the way Raven loved him; not the way he probably loved me. If he even loved me.” She shook her head sadly the more she thought about it, “I’m not sure he loved me, perhaps the idea of me, of what he wanted me to be?” She shook her head again, hard. She was done thinking about Finn. “It doesn’t matter. He’s gone. And I’m here. With you.”

Lexa smiled, selfishly relieved to hear that Clarke had never loved Finn. Perhaps in time, Clarke would love her? And then the smile slowly faded. Only ever been Finn? She pulled back a little and looked harder at Clarke, “So…there was only Finn? There were never any girls?”

Clarke chuckled a little at Lexa’s slightly anxious stare. “No, there was a girl. Before I was locked up. She was from Agro Station. We liked each other, and we messed around a little, but you know…we never did that.” She stressed the last word while staring at Lexa, who seemed confused for a moment, trying to translate Clarke’s phrases into something that made sense to her. Clarke nodded when the look of understanding dawned on the brunette’s face, who nodded to Clarke.

Lexa laughed hesitantly, “Right. So neither of us have ever had more than one lover…” she let the words die on her lips. It really didn’t matter. What mattered was that she and Clarke were here together. But she hesitated wondering about this other girl. Did Clarke still have feelings for her?

“This other girl…do you…?” She let the sentence die abruptly as Clarke shook her head.

“No, she didn’t make it down to earth.”

“Oh.” Lexa didn’t know what else to say, not knowing how much Clarke had cared or not cared for the unnamed girl.

“It’s ok. She’s been gone for a long time, and none of that matters any more.”

“No?”

“No,” Clarke nodded firmly and then started to scootch back on the bed, twisting her body. She hoped Lexa would get the hint, and she was relieved when the brunette immediately started to follow her.

They laughed self-consciously, bumping noses and chins as they tried to maintain contact while Clarke crab-walked backwards up the bed and Lexa followed as quickly as she could. Clarke fell on her back with a thump, and Lexa didn’t hesitate to gently lay her body partially on top of Clarke’s, managing to keep part of her weight off the younger woman. Lexa may have been more slender, but she was decidedly more muscular, and she worried that she might be heavier than was comfortable for Clarke.

Lexa nuzzled her face into the blonde’s neck, mumbling quietly against the soft skin, letting her lips flutter against her pulse. The words didn’t make sense. They weren’t meant to, because what made sense was the salt against her tongue as she continued to mumble in the hollow of Clarke’s neck. She smiled at the slight shiver that rippled through Clarke’s frame. She traced the tendons along her shoulder with her tongue, pausing every few seconds to suck lightly on the skin, scrape her teeth over the flesh.

Lexa’s muscles tightened as Clarke ran her fingers up and down her spine. She pulled her face from the warmth of Clarke’s flesh and pulled back just enough to tilt her face and place gentle kisses along Clarke’s jawline. She grinned again when her teeth scraped along her jaw, and Clarke shifted her hips and moved her legs restlessly.

She nibbled and sucked lightly down her jawline and then back up again, kissing the corner of Clarke’s mouth, and retreating quickly when Clarke tried to capture her lips with her own. She let her right hand drift down the blonde’s torso, until she could skim her fingertips up under her thin shirt. She looked quickly at the blonde, seeking permission, and she kissed her when Clarke nodded.

She danced her fingertips across the toned stomach, and marveled at the smoothness of the skin. She tickled her fingers across the blonde’s ribs, and smirked when she shied away from the touch and huffed at Lexa’s amused chuckle. Her fingers stuttered over a rough patch low down on her side, and her brows furrowed briefly as she traced the scar. She sighed tiredly at the reminder of the brutality of the ground.

Clarke reached up and cupped Lexa’s face, noticing the grimace. She pressed her mouth to Lexa’s lightly and whispered, “It’s ok. It’s just a scar. A detail, a story. And I will tell it to you another day.” She pressed her mouth harder against Lexa’s, coaxing the grimace from her mouth. She swiped her tongue across Lexa’s lips and swallowed the sigh that escaped when Lexa allowed her in.

They tangled in the wet warmth of each other’s mouths, both searching, fighting for control; pressing forward and then darting back. It was a game of strategy, of want, and Lexa shifted against Clarke’s side, feeling the warmth whorl in her belly. She felt as if the air was being sucked out of the tent, or perhaps it was her lungs. She couldn’t breathe as Clarke plundered and took what she want. Her chest ached, and she tore her mouth from Clarke’s, panting hard against her neck.

She buried her face in the crook of Clarke’s neck, reveling in the flush of heat that pushed against her face. She licked the sweat beginning to form on the pale skin. She dragged her tongue over the fluttering pulse and barely resisted the urge to sink her teeth into it. Instead she swirled her tongue across it, flattened her tongue hard against the pulse, and let it beat into her own flesh.

She couldn’t resist and scraped her teeth across it again, relishing the jerk of Clarke’s body against her own. She sucked hard on her pulse, knowing she would leave a bruise; not caring. She wanted to leave her mark on Clarke, leave it for everyone to see that Clarke was hers, and she was Clarke’s.

Clarke groaned deep in her chest, clamping her mouth closed. She refused to let it push past her teeth, instead feeling it vibrate between her ribs. She was going to have a mark tomorrow, and she should probably be irritated that Lexa had seen fit to brand her; but she couldn’t quite manage to care. Not when the little swirl of warmth in her belly was slowly twisting and swirling, and her muscles were starting to tighten deliciously. She shuddered at the feel of Lexa’s tongue against her pulse, the harsh suck against her flesh.

She could feel the flush rising from her bones, from her muscles, pushing against her skin, painting her in light pinks and reds. She jerked her hips, and moved her legs, trying to tangle them with Lexa’s. She could feel the lean body shiver against her side, feel the warm pelvis push into the side of her hip.

Clarke wrapped her arms fully around Lexa’s back, relishing the feel of the warm flesh beneath her palms. She tried to pull Lexa’s full weight on herself, and groaned in annoyance when Lexa refused to move. “Lexaaaaaaa,” she whined as she shifted on to her side, pushing at the older girl until she was also on her side.

Lexa pulled back from Clarke’s neck, briefly admiring the light purple bruise painted across pale skin. Lexa smirked and raised an eyebrow, delighting in the look of frustration on the girl’s face. She smiled at the flushed cheeks, and the wide blue eyes. “Yes, Klark?” She didn’t bother to hide the amusement in her voice. She was proud of the mark she had left, was delighted at the wide blue eyes that were sparking at her, darkening into indigo even as she stared at her. She glanced at the hips that were moving lightly on the bed, the blonde clearly growing frustrated.

Lexa placed her palm flat against Clarke’s lower abdomen, and pressed lightly in an effort to hold her hips down. Not that she really wanted the blonde to stop moving. No she wanted to feel the tiny muscles contract and push against her. She massaged lightly and Clarke huffed at her again.

Lexa bent down and pressed her mouth wide against the taught belly, nibbling along her belly button, teasing the blonde. She smirked when she heard Clarke exhale in irritation.

“Stop teasing, Lexa!” She all but growled. She wanted to feel the full of weight of the older girl on top of her, wanted to cradle her between her thighs. She wanted to swallow her moans and feel her flesh slick against her fingers. And Lexa was not cooperating.

She stopped wiggling. She let her hands fall gently to the other girl’s hair, letting her fingers sift idly through the braids. Her hair tickled her belly, and she tried to contain the resulting shiver. There was always another way.

“Alesandria?”

Lexa froze when she heard the husky burr of her name. Her eyes widened, when the blonde repeated the soft word. It was her name, but it wasn’t. It was more. It was husky, soft, enticing, and she shivered as the blonde drew the name out in her mouth. She could almost feel the way the blonde’s tongue curled around the syllables of her name, caressing each one, rolling them in her mouth before opening and letting them drop past her lips. Lexa groaned and shifted, throwing her right leg over the blonde’s hips, and pulling herself up, until she was on all fours above Clarke.

“Alesandria.”

Lexa dropped low, her body pushing hard into Clarke’s, and her eager mouth found Clarke’s, her tongue pushing roughly past Clarke’s teeth. She wanted that name. She wanted to feel it against her lips, taste it on her tongue. No one had ever spoken her name like that, and she was enthralled.

Clarke gladly let her in, let her plunder her mouth for the name. She rolled her tongue around Lexa’s, hissing in her mouth, and she let out a muffled yelp when Lexa caught her tongue between her teeth and bit lightly, then sucked Clarke’s tongue into her hot mouth.

Clarke clutched hard at Lexa’s back, feeling the muscles twitch and bunch. She squirmed and her breath hitched as Lexa continued to suck on her tongue, and she felt the air trickling out of her lungs, but she was having trouble drawing in breath against the tight seal of their mouths. She pushed firmly against Lexa’s upper shoulders until she finally released her mouth with a wet pop.

Lexa sat back on her haunches, straddling Clarke’s hips. She pressed down against Clarke’s pelvis, and smiled when she felt the answering upward thrust. She let the warmth in her belly curl and swish through her muscles. She looked down at Clarke’s face, admiring the swollen and slightly bruised lips. Her skin was flushed and moist in the low candlelight, and her blue eyes gleamed. She felt the desire cut through her lower belly, and she shifted again, more than conscious of the moisture that had gathered between her thighs.

Clarke lay there, her hands still resting above Lexa’s breasts, and the brunette looked a little too smug for her liking. She let her fingers trail down Lexa’s breasts, flicking lightly at her nipples that had hardened. She licked her lips, wondering what they would feel like, taste like in her mouth. She leaned up, sliding her arms fully around Lexa’s waist, pulling her up on her knees and latched on to her collarbone. She nibbled and slid her tongue across its length, smiling into the wet flesh as Lexa shuddered in her arms. She licked and sucked at the hollow of Lexa’s throat, pulling the flesh between her teeth. She left behind little lilac imprints of her teeth, and after each bite, she soothed it with her tongue.

Lexa grunted when she felt the teeth in the hollow of her throat, and she pushed her body harder into Clarke’s arms, and she grabbed at the bottom of Clarke’s shirt and pulled it up, trying to take it off the blonde. Except Clarke wouldn’t let go of her collarbone long enough for her to pull the shirt over her head. She pulled hard on the shirt, and grunted when she felt Clarke suck hard on her skin in return. She was going to be littered with marks by tomorrow, and she would gut the first person who pointed them out.

She puffed out a sharp breath, blowing the curls out of her face that had escaped her braid. She tugged again on Clarke’s shirt and whined under her breath, in a way that was very much unbecoming of the Heda. She was caught between the delicious pain of Clarke’s teeth against her skin and the need to feel Clarke’s warm flesh pressed into her own. But Clarke was not giving up her place, so Lexa fisted the shirt tightly and tore it up the back.

She smiled at her own ingenuity, but the smile quickly vanished when she noticed that Clarke had stopped her attentions on her collarbone and was glaring at her now. She swallowed hard and smiled sheepishly at Clarke.

“Really, Lexa? I don’t have that many shirts!” Clarke grumped at her, not particularly amused that her favorite shirt was now ripped in two and falling off her body. She ignored the fact that there had been a surge of moisture between her thighs when Lexa had rent the shirt in two. That wasn’t something she needed to point out to Lexa who would no doubt puff out her chest in pride. Although now that she thought about it…She narrowed her eyes and licked her lips, Lexa puffing out her chest was not such a bad idea. It was actually a good idea, a very good idea.

Lexa shrugged and tugged the shirt remnants off of Clarke, “I will buy you more in Polis.” When she looked up again after tossing the pieces to the floor, she realized that Clarke was no longer glaring at her, nor did she even seem to be listening to her. She smiled. No, Clarke’s entire focus was on her breasts. She seemed to be staring rather intently at them, and Lexa sunk down a little in Clarke’s lap, jostling the blonde from her intense staring contest with her…nipples? Lexa snorted.

“You know…you don’t have to just stare at them. You could touch them,” she offered rather candidly, and was amused to see the blush that scoured the blonde’s cheeks. She reached up and cupped her cheeks gently, enjoying the heat against her palms. She slipped her fingers into long blonde hair, and scratched at the blonde’s scalp, earning herself a delicious pant from pink lips.

She heard Clarke mumble something that sounded like agreement, but she was still shocked, when instead of simply touching her like she had anticipated, the younger girl surged forward hard, capturing her left nipple in her mouth. Lexa grunted in surprise and automatically tightened her grasp on Clarke’s head. That had been…unexpected. But she felt the moisture between her thighs thicken when the blonde sucked hard on her nipple and curled her tongue around it. She tried to squeeze her hips together, but Clarke’s hips prevented much movement.

She cupped the back of Clarke’s head, pulling her more firmly to her breast, and then pushed forward, steadying her weight behind Clarke with a firmly planted hand. She pressed down until Clarke got the hint and lay back down. Lexa shifted, slipping one leg between Clarke’s, and brought her thigh up against her heat. She pressed and was immediately rewarded with a sharp puff of air against her breast.

She whimpered when the blonde pushed down hard on her thigh, and she pressed up again. It was an awkward rhythm, seemingly filled with more stops than starts, and she growled in frustration. Her body was hunched unnaturally since Clarke still hadn’t let go of the nipple she was playing with, not that she was complaining, but it wasn’t allowing her the access she wanted. She pulled her thigh back, and her leg out from between Clarke’s legs and was rewarded with a hard bite to her nipple. She hissed in pain, knowing she had displeased the blonde. She tried not to roll her eyes, and instead slid her arms underneath Clarke and pulled hard while rolling on to her back.

She plopped, quite ungracefully, on to her back against the furs, but now the blonde was lying on her side, mostly draped over Lexa. Their legs and arms were tangled, and the blonde’s weight was warm and heavy against her. She pulled Clarke’s mouth up and angled down to kiss her, and she felt Clarke scrabble lightly against the furs to push up against her mouth. Their teeth clinked and their tongues slid messily against each other, and there was probably way too much spit involved, but it was their kiss; and she hummed against Clarke’s mouth, and pushed her back, squirming out from under her until she had managed to get Clarke on her back again. She reclined slightly against the mound of furs, and it gave her a better angle to look at Lexa.

Clarke pouted at Lexa, slightly frustrated that she was on her back again, when all she wanted to do was bury her face in between Lexa’s small breasts. She reached up, cupping them in her small hands. It had never occurred to her that she might be a breast woman, but she more than a little infatuated with the silky, bronzed globes that fit perfectly in her hands. She wanted to taste the hard, little nipples again that fit perfectly against her tongue. But Lexa was kissing her more insistently, running her hand up her stomach until it came to rest between the valley of her own breasts.

Clarke hadn’t really considered Lexa touching her breasts until now, and she held her breath unconsciously when she felt slender fingers lightly trace the sides of her breast, skipping lightly over the tightening skin. She hummed quietly, when slender fingers found purchase around her nipples and rolled them lightly, tugging gently, not enough to hurt, but enough to make her feel an answering tug deep in her belly. Her clit twitched, and she stared wide eyed at Lexa’s fingers that continued to map her breasts. She was surprised by her body’s reaction, and she clenched her thighs against the building pressure. She hadn’t felt this way when Finn had touched her there, not that he had spent much time checking out the scenery. He had been more preoccupied with…other things.

Clarke slipped her fingers behind Lexa’s neck, cupping her head. She pulled her towards herself lightly whispering her name softly, her eyes still not leaving Lexa’s fingers. Her eyes fluttered shut when she felt the heat of Lexa’s mouth wrap around her nipple, and she didn’t bother to choke back the groan that pushed past her teeth. She squeezed her thighs tighter, whimpering at the pulsing she could feel in her slick flesh. She wanted more, and she pumped her hips futilely in the air, unable to find purchase on anything to help relieve the growing ache.

Lexa hummed around the nipple in her mouth, enjoying the feel of the dark pink swell in her mouth. She sucked lightly, flicking her tongue back and forth over the nipple, pleased when it hardened even more into a tight bud. She licked it, and played gently with it, occasionally dragging her teeth over the pebbled flesh. She was rewarded by Clarke’s hand tightening in her hair, and the other hand scrabbling for purchase on her shoulder. She switched her attention to the other nipple, playing with it, suckling for a brief moment, enjoying how it swelled in her mouth.

But she could feel the harsh pump of Clarke’s hips near her, and she smoothed her hand over fabric of the girl’s pants, she slipped her hand down between her thighs, smirking when Clarke opened them without any further encouragement. She cupped Clarke’s heat, pressing lightly against the thin fabric. She could feel the moisture seeping through the girl’s pants, and she let go of the girl’s nipple, placing a lingering kiss on the wet bud and looked up at Clarke’s dilated indigo eyes. She smiled and leaned in, pressing her open mouth lightly against the corner of Clarke’s lips. “You’re wet,” she murmured.

She felt the girl’s cheeks heat up and she pulled back to smile at her, but hesitated when she realized that Clarke wouldn’t quite meet her eyes. Instead the blonde, nervously chewed on her lower lip, clearly embarrassed. Lexa flicked her tongue out, smoothing over the lower lip the girl was worrying. She sucked it gently between her lips, and pressed gently against her sex. She pulled back and shifted so she could rest her forehead against Clarke’s, “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. I’m glad you are wet.” She dropped kisses along the girl’s nose and cheeks, finally drawing a relieved giggle from the blonde. “I want you to be wet. For me. Because of me,” she kissed Clarke hard, cupping her sex and squeezing, then dragging her fingertips up and over her mound until her fingertips rested against the edge of her waistband.

“Please?”

She felt the breathy yes against her neck, where the blonde had hid her burning face. She felt her chest swell and ache with love for this woman, and her eyes prickled with tears as her fingers curled under the waistband and slowly drew it down her hips.

“Lift,” she whispered, and the blonde raised her hips slightly so she could continue to pull the pants down past her hips and thighs. She shifted and sat up, noticing that Clarke immediately threw an arm across her eyes. Her brow furrowed in confusion at the girl’s embarrassment, but she decided to let it go for now.

Her breath caught in her throat, as more flesh was revealed, and she coughed once she got the pants down past the Clarke’s knees. She tugged a little harder, drawing them completely off. She tossed them behind her, not caring where they landed. She gently maneuvered Clarke’s limbs so that she was kneeling between her legs. She leaned forward, placing a hand on either side of Clarke’s shoulders.

She nuzzled her nose and face against the arm that was thrown across Clarke’s eyes. She kissed along the arm, licked along the space where her arm met her nose. She finally tickled up along Clarke’s ribs, and the blonde laughed pulling her arm away. She immediately pushed her knees out from under her, so she was laying between Clarke’s legs, and it only took a small amount of pressure for Clarke to bend her legs and bring them up slightly, so Lexa could fit in the cradle of her thighs.

Clarke whimpered lightly as Lexa’s weight settled between her thighs, and the heavy fabric of Lexa’s pants pushed into her wet folds, causing a delicious friction. She pushed her hips up into Lexa, and glared at Lexa when she didn’t push back against Clarke.

“Leskaaaa,” she whined as she pushed again, her earlier embarrassment forgotten. Lexa chuckled and finally ground down lightly, beaming when Clarke’s eyes glazed over slightly. She dropped little kisses along Clarke’s flushed neck, kissing the small lilac starbursts along her collarbone, she wiggled lower, sucking and nipping at Clarke’s breasts, enjoying the feel of the girl squirming against her. She licked and nibbled her way down the taught belly, her hands running up and down the girl’s sides, massaging the flesh between her fingertips.

She sat back on her knees again, and reached down, tugging Clarke’s legs up more, bending them at the knee and then pushing out lightly, opening Clarke up to her gaze. She felt her mouth drop open slightly, and her tongue felt thick in her mouth. She was beautiful. She tenderly ran one finger down the strip of hair covering her sex. She cocked her head slightly, noting again the pink flesh around the strip of hair. Clarke obviously cut her hair even more than Lexa did. She licked her lips, wondering if this was a Skaikru tradition. She worried for a moment that she was not as cleanly cut as Clarke, but she was distracted by the glistening folds to worry too much about it.

Clarke squirmed under Lexa’s heated gaze, unsure how she felt about the intensity with which Lexa gazed at her sex. Finn certainly hadn’t taken the time to gaze at it, as he’d been too distracted with his need to be inside her. She bit her lip again, worried that maybe Lexa didn’t like what she saw. But as she stared at her, she saw Lexa’s tongue flick out again, licking her lips. She felt the muscles in her legs shake slightly as Lexa ran her fingers up and down the insides of her legs. She felt herself grow wetter under Lexa’s hot gaze, and she watched as Lexa’s eyes widen briefly and a smile tug at her lips.

Lexa let out a satisfied sigh when she noticed that Clarke was growing wetter under her gaze. She smiled and let her fingers continue to soothe little circles against the inside of her thighs. She let both hands make their way trailing along milky flesh to her sex. She lightly brushed her thumbs against the strip of coarse curls, smiling when she felt Clarke shudder briefly under her hands. She danced her fingertips along the smoothly shaved flesh, until she could no longer resist and dipped her head to run her tongue up the strip of curls.

She breathed deeply, inhaling the Clarke’s scent. It filled her nose and lay heavy on her tongue, slightly musky and earthy. She clicked her teeth together, then dragged her tongue along the bottoms of her front teeth. She scraped her tongue repeatedly, her chest heaving as she tried to etch the scent forever in her mind. She grunted and pushed down, letting her knees go out from under her. She lay between Clarke’s legs, gratified when Clarke lifted one leg around her back, drawing her closer.

Lexa blew across the wet curls and then leaned down, tracing the smooth flesh with her tongue. She loved how smooth she felt against her tongue, only then to feel the slight scrape of her hair. She flattened her tongue against Clarke, feeling both the smooth flesh and coarse hair. She groaned at the contradictory sensations, and she dipped her head down and filled her mouth with Clarke.

She simply held her briefly in her mouth then pulled back and slid her thumbs up the inside of her folds, pulling them apart gently so she could look at the glistening flesh in front of her. She blew lightly across Clarke’s inner folds, slightly enamored with the way that her flesh clenched and shivered. Her sex was a deep rosy pink, glistening with silky gloss. Her inner lips were like soft petals, and Lexa purred deep in her chest when she slid her tongue along the folds. She sucked them in between her lips, running her tongue along the furled edges.

Clarke tightened against Lexa’s mouth, groaning softly at the feel of the heat of her mouth against her wet sex. She felt the heat in her belly expand and fill her muscles as they strained for more. Her toes curled slightly, and she felt tingles rushing along her skin. She widened her legs further to give Lexa more room, despite the growing urge to simply trap Lexa’s face between her thighs. Smothering Lexa would not benefit either of them. She tried to steady her trembling muscles, breathing deeply and exhaling in a harsh rush, but she couldn’t focus long enough to regain control of her body, as she felt Lexa’s tongue insistently push between her folds, tracing her moist flesh.

Lexa flattened her tongue and licked up the center of Clarke’s sex, letting the tip of her tongue rest on the underside of Clarke’s clit. She gently traced the little nodule with her tongue, simply letting her get used to the weight of her tongue. She circled around her clit, then flicked her tongue across the tip of it. She coaxed it gently from its hood, and when she felt it begin to swell a little, she rolled her tongue letting her clit slip into the tube of her tongue. She flexed her tongue around it, gently massaging the sides of her clit, and she felt it swell more. She bobbed her head up and down, and felt the wetness surge and splash against her chin.

Clarke groaned, her fingers digging into the back of Lexa’s neck, where she still cupped her head. She felt the heat coil harshly in her belly, making her muscles strain and tighten. She arched into Lexa’s mouth, and she could feel the air hit the dampness that had gathered at her lower back. She was flushed and sweltering against the furs, twisting her body searching for something more that sat on the edges of her senses. She growled in frustration when she felt Lexa’s tongue relax and let go of her clit, but she groaned when she felt the wet muscle trace her opening. Her swollen, inner muscles instinctively tried to grab the tip of Lexa’s tongue and pull her in, but Lexa resisted, pulling back and continuing to trace around her opening, gathering the wetness along her tongue only to smear it messily against her clit.

Lexa panted hard against Clarke’s swollen sex. Her head stung from where Clarke had dug her fingers in, and her face was wet from Clarke’s glistening sex. Her musk lay heavy on her tongue, and she was overwhelmed with the urge to simply bury her face inside of Clarke, but she resisted, instead grinding her tongue against Clarke’s swollen clit. She hummed hard against it, knowing she would feel the vibrations, and she was rewarded with Clarke garbling her name, and her thighs closing around her head.

Lexa reached up and pulled Clarke’s thighs open so she could breathe. She rolled her tongue again, fitting the opening against Clarke’s clit, and let it slide in. She shivered at the feel, and she flexed her tongue around the pulsating nodule. She massaged it and bopped her head again, feeling it harden and swell.

Clarke closed her eyes tightly, seeing shapes and colored shadows flickering and fading. She could feel the swelling in her clit, and she was sure it would burst. She had never felt this before. Not with Finn. Sex with Finn had been nice, mainly because she had wanted to be close to him, not because she had orgasmed with him.

But this, this little death that was creeping up on her, threatening to steal her breath, her sight, her everything. It was just out of reach, sitting blurry and sharp on the edges of her nerves. She wanted to grasp it and pull it towards her, inside of her and feel it explode and shimmer. She wanted to explode and shimmer against Lexa, inside of her mouth. And with one last insistent tug on her clit, she felt the cold burn sweep up through her straining muscles, and her mouth fell open, and Lexa’s names tumbled past her lips, straining and brutal.

Her chest heaved and her sex clenched and she was sure she had probably drowned Lexa in the cum that slipped wetly from her body. Her body jerked once, twice, and she groaned pushing against Lexa’s face when she felt the brunette’s hot mouth close sharply around her clit and suck hard. She bucked up her hips trying to dislodge Lexa from her over-sensitized clit, but she couldn’t make her stop, and she felt the burning in her toes, and this time it itched its way up her legs and buried itself in her belly. The sharp lancing heat in her belly made her want to scream but she didn’t, as the tendrils of heat seeped through her fatigued muscles, and she shook in Lexa’s arms, whimpering and begging. Begging for her to stop, begging for her to never stop, as her second orgasm pulsed along her shredded nerves.

Lexa suckled the straining bundle of nerves, milking Clarke’s second orgasm from her, determined to carry her through it. She felt the hot moisture bathe her chin twice, and she groaned around Clarke’s clit, as the blonde pumped her hips against her mouth. She had resisted when Clarke pushed against her face, knowing the blonde wasn’t done yet. But once she shook and shuddered against her, and she felt the blondes legs collapse, she pulled back from the swollen, red clit and smiled.

Lexa licked her lips, enjoying the sticky cum painting her lips. She blew on Clarke’s clit and smirked as Clarke jerked. She tenderly kissed the overused nodule, just barely resisting swirling her tongue around it again. She felt hands in her hair tugging at her, clearly commanding her to crawl up the blonde’s body, which she did reluctantly, not ready to leave the wet heat behind.

“You’re awfully proud of yourself aren’t you,” muttered Clarke as she welcomed Lexa into her arms, sighing in relief at the weight of the other girl settling partially on top of her.

“Sha,” beamed Lexa as she slid her palms under Clarke’s shoulders and kissed the girl, letting her taste her sticky sweetness on her lips.

Clarke made a face when she tasted herself on Lexa’s lips. That was new. Actually most of it had been new. Finn had only made a half-hearted attempt at oral sex, and she hadn’t encouraged it, because it had felt awkward, and he obviously wasn’t overly interested in it.

Lexa laughed as Clarke scrunched her face. “Shush. It’s good. You taste good. Sweet and salty.” She licked her lips and then leaned down, rubbing her sticky chin across Clarke’s lips. She chuckled when Clarke rolled her eyes at her. “I’ll get it,” she murmured and swiped her tongue across Clarke’s lips, feeling it tack on her tongue. She dragged her tongue against the bottom of her teeth, scraping it off her tongue and swallowing. She nuzzled her face into Clarke’s neck, smiling at feel of the slight sheen on her skin.

She was still supporting her weight partly on her knees that were bracketing Clarke’s hips, but her muscles shook, and she simply wanted to rest fully on top of Clarke, let her weight sink into the warm flesh. She slowly eased down more fully, letting her body slump into Clarke’s.

“Am I too heavy?” she asked worriedly.

Clarke chuckled and wrapped her arms around Lexa’s back and pulled her down into her body. “I’m not fragile, Leska, I can take your weight. Relax, baby. I’ve got you.” She kissed Lexa lightly and smiled when she felt the older girl let her weight go with a slight oomph. She sighed in contentment when she felt the lean muscles and subtle curves fit snugly into her own more lush curves. She tangled their legs together, and traced patterns in the drying moisture in the small of Lexa’s back.

Lexa’s eyes fluttered closed, as she snuggled deeper into Clarke, but then she pulled back suddenly, her brow furrowed. “Baby? I’m not a goufa or strikon, Klark.”

Clarke chuckled, “No, that isn’t what I meant, Leska.”

“But isn’t that a baby? A very young goufa or strikon?”

Clarke reached up and kissed the tip of Lexa’s nose, delighted at the puzzled look on the older girl’s beautiful face. “Yes, a baby is a very young goufa, but it is also a term of endearment.”

“Term of endearment?” Lexa hadn’t thought she could be more confused by this conversation, but Clarke had just proved her wrong. She shifted against Clarke, suddenly very aware of just how wet she was, and how her sex pulsed lightly. She bit her lip, her mind hazy, and she couldn’t quite remember what they were talking about. She shifted again, pressing her pelvis down into Clarke’s hips, who eyes flared open briefly, before the blonde’s pout lips slipped into a smirk.

Clarke reached down, slipping her hands underneath the brunette’s pants. She cupped the brunette’s firm backside. She squeezed firmly and was rewarded with panting breath and muscles shivering and pushing against her own. She leaned up slightly, sucking gently along Lexa’s jawline. She wrapped her hands more firmly around the smooth globes of the girl’s bottom, squeezing and massaging them. And she started into the dark green eyes that were slightly glazed, and she was pretty sure that Lexa couldn’t really see her at the moment, as the brunette kept pushing her pelvis down into Clarke, searching for relief.

She continued to squeeze and pull at Lexa, and she opened her legs again, and let the brunette slip between them. She drew her legs up and wide, so Lexa could push more easily against her sex. She smiled when the brunette groaned and panted above her as her hips jerked against her. She could feel their mounds pressing against each other, but it wasn’t enough friction, and she could see the frustration etching into Lexa’s furrowed brow.

She reached one hand up and smoothed her thumb across the furrows, she cupped her cheek and directed the open mouth against her own, slipping her tongue inside Lexa’s mouth. She swirled her tongue around Lexa’s and swallowed her growls and moans, as she continued to press and jerk her hips against her. She pulled back just enough to capture the lower lip between her own, and she bit down lightly. Hard enough to garner the older girl’s attention, but not quite hard enough to bleed, but it would be purple by morning.

“I’ll take care of you in a minute, baby, but first…” she cupped the brunette’s hot cheek in her palm again. “Look at me, baby,” and once Lexa had manage to focus on her she continued, “Baby is a word we use to refer to someone that we care about. We use it for our lovers,” she whispered gazing into Lexa’s eyes.

“Baby?” Lexa smiled letting the sound of the word wash over her. Now that she understood, she liked it. The word felt foreign on her tongue, but she could get used to saying it, or better yet, hearing it.

“I like it.” She blushed and wondered if she should also call Clarke baby, or maybe she should come up with a term of endertmia…whatever….on her own. She leaned down and nuzzled her face into Clarke’s neck again, licking and sucking along her pulse. She pushed her hips again against Clarke’s sex, reminding the blonde what she had promised.

Clarke chuckled and rubbed her cheek against Lexa’s jaw, trying to angle her head so that she could nudge Lexa out from the crook of her neck. She huffed when she was unsuccessful, so instead she dug her short nails into Lexa’s bottom and laughed at the petulant grunt she received as Lexa jerked her head up to glare at Clarke.

“Klark. That was unnecessary.”

“Really? Oh mighty, Heda,” she teased at the sulking brunette, “are you sure you didn’t like it? Not even a little?” And she dug her nails in again, smirking at the way the brunette’s eyes darkened and her muscles twitched.

Lexa humphed at her, trying to hold back her smile. She opened her mouth to tell her she was beautiful like this, pale skin flushed with her eyes shining and instead what came out, while the truth, was not what she had anticipated.

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....how bad was it?
> 
> Oh and this takes the place of Monday's post. So yeah.


	32. Stuff Happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie. This is not my best work. I’ve had major work deadlines, and basically wrote this in a couple hours yesterday, so didn’t get a lot of time to rework it. Only 1/3 of this was supposed to be smut, buuuuuuut…yeah. That didn’t happen. Enjoy.

**Chapter 31: Stuff Happens**

**Previously....  
**

_Lexa humphed at her, trying to hold back her smile. She opened her mouth to tell her she was beautiful like this, pale skin flushed with her eyes shining and instead what came out, while the truth, was not what she had anticipated._

_“I love you.”_

******************************************

Clarke lay there looking up into anxious green eyes, and she opened her mouth to say something, anything; but nothing came out. She was stunned. Of all the things that Lexa could have said, this was the least expected. She knew Lexa cared greatly for her, but it never actually occurred to her that Lexa would be willing to admit it, say it; to breathe life into it; and let it be; knowing she would never be able to take it back.

“I…I…uh…” she was at a loss for words, and she was desperately scrambling to think of something to say that Lexa wouldn’t perceive as rejection. But the moment was quickly lost as Lexa pulled back slightly, her eyes suspiciously moist.

“It’s ok, Klark. You don’t need to say anything. I guess I just wanted you to know,” she laughed under her breath. “It wasn’t what I had planned to say, but apparently I chose with my heart this time instead of my head.” She shook her head ruefully and pulled back, pulling her legs under her and sitting up in the bed.

“No. Wait, Leska.” Clarke reached out to pull Lexa back towards her, but Lexa was already pulling away. “If it’s ok, why are you pulling away from me?” She sat up, following Lexa’s body, trying to close the distance between them. She finally just threw herself at Lexa, taking the brunette back down on the bed again.

Lexa couldn’t help but laugh, and the sadness she had felt when she had seen Clarke’s startled face when she’d inadvertently told her she loved her; disappeared when she gazed into warm, blue eyes. She recognized the softness there, and she felt it in the lips that gently brushed over her cheek, her nose, her forehead. And she let her eyes flutter closed, and she felt the barest whisper across her eyelids and she smiled.

Lexa wrapped her arms around Clarke, relishing the feel of her warm, albeit, slightly sticky naked body resting against hers. She buried her face in the crook of Clarke’s neck and inhaled deeply, enjoying the light spicy sweat.

“Did you just smell me?!” Clarke playfully poked at Lexa’s sides, as she tried to squirm out of Lexa’s tight hold. “I probably don’t smell that great,” she muttered. She managed to pull back slightly, forcing Lexa to move her face. She chuckled at the enraged pout on Lexa’s face.

“You smell perfect.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. Who knew the commander could be a little sappy. “I smell sweaty, and I’m a little sticky.”

Lexa grinned unrepentantly at Clarke, “I know. You smell like you enjoyed cumming.”

“Lexa!” Clarke felt the heat crawl up into her face as she smacked Lexa’s arm. Apparently the commander had a rather saucy sense of humor too. Who knew? But she couldn’t be annoyed with her as she immediately recalled just how it had felt when Lexa’s mouth had been on her, her fingers inside her. She felt the heat bloom down her neck and across her chest, and she hid her face in Lexa’s neck when she laughed.

“You are beautiful, Klark, especially when you feel pleasure.” Lexa let her hands drift soothingly up and down Clarke’s back, knowing she had embarrassed the blonde more than a little.

“Yeah, well…” muttered Clarke, but the rest of her words were garbled as she pressed her face tighter into Lexa’s neck.

“What? I couldn’t quite hear you, Klark.” She tried not smirk when she felt the blonde harrumph against her skin.

“Shof op, Leska.” But then Clarke squealed when she felt Lexa’s fingers tickle against her ribs, and Lexa rolled them over so she was resting on top of Clarke. She let her arms that were bracketing Clarke’s shoulders take most of her weight, as she still worried about hurting Clarke.

She bent down and nibbled along Clarke’s collarbone, licking gently when she nibbled a little too hard. She grinned against Clarke’s flushed skin when she felt the blonde wiggle underneath her.

“What was it you said, Klark?” She continued to lick and kiss her way slowly down Clarke’s chest, stopping briefly to flick her tongue across the blonde’s nipples. She was inordinately pleased to see that they immediately pebbled, and Clarke reached up and grabbed at her shoulders.

“You’re being mean, Leska, stop teasing!” She couldn’t help but whine a little at the maddeningly slow trek the brunette was making down her body.

“I’m Heda, I can do whatever I want, including tease you for as long as I want,” Lexa imperiously replied to Clarke as she looked up and gave her an arrogant smirk.

Clarke’s eyes narrowed, and she wiggled more underneath Lexa until she was able to squirm her leg between Lexa’s. She raised her leg and pressed it against Lexa’s sex, pleased when Lexa stiffened and then immediately pressed down on her leg.

“Two can play this game, baby,” and she swiftly pushed out hard against the inside of Lexa’s arms, causing her to fall on to Clarke’s chest with a thump.

Lexa was so startled by the move that she landed with a whumph on Clarke’s chest, bumping her head against the other girl’s chin. She winced, worried she had hurt Clarke, and when she looked up, Clarke grinned wickedly at her. She pressed her lips against the tip of Clarke’s chin, knowing it must have hurt at least a little.

She pulled back a bit so she could see Clarke’s eyes, trying to focus even when she felt Clarke’s thigh press against her sex again. She resisted the urge to grind down on her leg, not wanting to give Clarke too much power, as the girl still hadn’t answered her question. She knew she had been successful when Clarke narrowed her eyes at her again, and tried to press her thigh harder against Lexa’s sex. But Lexa gripped her thigh with her legs, refusing to allow it any higher. She couldn’t help but pant lightly though from the exertion of flexing her thigh muscles so hard trying to keep Clarke’s in place.

“So tell me what you said.”

“No.” Clarke raised her chin defiantly, and Lexa didn’t know whether to be annoyed at her stubbornness or charmed by it.

“You are very cute when you are trying to be defiant.” Lexa kissed the tip of Clarke’s nose.

Clarke spluttered at Lexa, not expecting Lexa to try a different tactic. She had been sure that Lexa would try to match stubborn wits with her, not try to disarm her with her charm. She huffed at Lexa rolling her eyes.

“I know what you are doing, and it won’t work.”

Lexa stared at Clarke for a moment, smiling softly. She bit her lower lip, and let her thighs relax so Clarke could move her leg again. “Please, Klark? Please tell me what you said?” she whispered as she continued to bite her bottom lip, her eyes a little wide as she started at Clarke.

Clarke felt her mouth drop open slightly. Now this was truly not playing fair. Damn her! She growled under her breath, knowing she couldn’t resist at this point. “Fine, she huffed out, “I said that I had never felt pleasure like that before.” She rolled her eyes as Lexa beamed at her.

“See this is why I didn’t want to tell you. You’ll get all arrogant and cocky.”

Lexa kissed Clarke gently, relishing the feel of the warm lips under hers, loving how they immediately opened for her. “I am glad you felt pleasure. I always want to give you that.” She nuzzled her mouth under Clarke’s chin, enjoying the way Clarke immediately lifted to give her better access.

She stopped briefly remembering what Clarke had said about not feeling pleasure like that before. “Did you not…” her voice trailed off, and she wondered if she should be so bold as to pry, and did it really even matter?

Clarke stared at Lexa seeing the momentary conflict as she curled her lower lip into her mouth. She knew what Lexa was going to ask, and she was curious if it really mattered to Lexa. She had a feeling it might, since as Heda, Lexa was used to control, power, and her own pride.

She arched an eyebrow at Lexa, clearly waiting. She huffed lightly and decided to just answer without hearing the rest of the question, “No. I didn’t with Finn, and yes, I did with you.”

Lexa smiled. She couldn’t help it as she tossed her head lightly and smirked at Clarke, “well naturally.”

She laughed when Clarke just rolled her eyes again and groaned at her, “You are insufferable.”

“Yes, but you call me baby, so you must enjoy it.”

Clarke couldn’t be bothered to disagree, especially since it was true, and besides; she rather enjoyed the arrogant smirk that graced plump lips. Not that she was going to tell Lexa that. She let her hands trail down to the top of Lexa’s pants. She skimmed her hands over her bottom, enjoying the way Lexa pressed her hips into her. She kissed along the older girl’s jawline, nipping and licking as she went. She cupped Lexa’s bottom, squeezing the tight muscle through her pants.

Lexa felt her skin flush, and she shifted trying to press down into Clarke’s pelvis. She was suddenly very aware of just how wet she still was, and her body was now demanding attention. She slipped her arms under Clarke’s shoulders and then rolled so that Clarke was on top again. She enjoyed the surprised look on Clarke’s face, but enjoyed even more the way her eyes narrowed and gleamed.

Clarke twisted to the side so she was lying on her side against Lexa, but propped up on her elbow. She leaned over Lexa, kissing along her breasts, and she let one hand slide down between her legs, and she cupped Lexa’s heat, smiling softly when she felt the slightly moisture. She pressed lightly against the fabric with her fingers, and she leaned up and swallowed Lexa’s warm sigh as she pressed her mouth against the brunette’s.

She pressed a little more firmly, rotating her fingers in small circles, and she enjoyed the way Lexa’s muscles clenched and the way Lexa reached up and pulled her more firmly into her. She let her fingers wander up to the button on her pants, flicking them open and letting her fingers slide a little way into the gap, but then she froze when she heard a noise in the outer room.

“Heda? Heda?”

Lexa growled recognizing Indra’s voice. She cursed her general under her breath, wanting nothing more than to simply ignore her, but she knew that Indra wouldn’t have bothered her unless it was important. She growled again when she heard Indra move closer to the inner room.

“Heda, your presence is required at the council.” Indra stood outside the inner room. Close enough to hear Lexa get up and start moving around the room, but far enough back that she couldn’t see anything through the small gap in the leather flaps that closed the room off.

Lexa reluctantly got up, rolling out from under Clarke. She stood and looked down regretfully at the pouting blonde. Her blonde hair was a mess, her skin still slightly flushed, and she was beautiful. “I have to go see what Indra needs,” she sighed again shaking her head, trying to ignore how delectable the blonde looked, splayed out on her bed of furs.

Clarke sighed and waved Lexa away, “I know. Go. I will be here when you get back.”

Lexa nodded and decided to forego her bindings in favor of her shirt and jacket. She would find out what Indra needed at first. She stepped through the flaps, tightening the belt around her waist that tied her jacket together. She knew the moment Indra spotted the hickeys along her collarbone, but the general wisely said nothing about it.

“Well, Indra? I thought I had asked not to be disturbed?” She pushed past her general and walked over to the table, pouring herself a mug of water. She drank it down in one gulp, ignoring the slight quirk of her general’s eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, Heda, but some of the council are demanding your presence. It appears that they are not pleased with how much time you are spending in the Skai Girl’s tent.” Indra stared stoically at Lexa, completely disregarding the lilac blossoms along her collarbone and the flush in her cheeks. She had stalled the council as long as she could, not wanting to be the one to interrupt Heda, especially after Mordecai had warned her an hour ago of what was taking place inside the Skai girl’s tent.

“I am Heda!” snarled Lexa as she glared at Indra, “I can and will spend my time with whomever I choose. I happen to choose Clarke.”

“That is what has them concerned, Heda. That you choose this interloper, this demon, this WanHeda over your own people.” Indra stiffened her spine, preparing herself for the fury building in Lexa’s eyes. She had known Lexa wouldn’t take well to be told what she couldn’t have. She hadn’t listened all those years ago, and it appeared she wasn’t going to listen again.

Lexa stalked closer to Indra, the fury burning through her muscles, “Interloper? Demon? She is none of these things,” hissed Lexa, “she is mine! Do you understand, Indra?”

Indra tried not to wince, and she wondered how Anya and Gustus had dealt with a stubborn Heda all those years ago. She bit back her sigh, knowing that Anya and Gustus had not been able to keep Lexa from Costia all those years ago, and she would not be able to keep Lexa from Clarke.

She bowed her head, offering her loyalty and obedience as always, “This is what they call her, Heda. For now. They will learn, and they will accept,” she murmured. “But for now, your presence is required to assure them that you are abiding by our laws and our ways.”

Indra glanced up carefully at Lexa, with her head still slightly bowed. Once she saw Lexa’s shoulders drop, she lifted her head. “The clan leaders grow restless, Heda. Minor fights have broken out. Perhaps they need a reminder of who is Heda, of who brought them peace and prosperity?” She offered quietly.

Lexa tightened her grip on her mug, knowing Indra was right, and she couldn’t ignore it. “Fine. I will meet with the council. Tell them I will be along shortly.” And she turned and headed back into the inner room where Clarke waited for her.

Indra nodded and left quickly, knowing that Lexa would probably be more than a few minutes, but at least she could assure the council that she was coming. Besides it would be good for her to take longer than a few minutes. It wouldn’t be good for the council to think they could just order Heda to appear at their own leisure.

Lexa was still scowling as she entered the inner room, and she stopped next to the bed staring at a sleepy blonde, curled up in the furs. She couldn’t help but smile a little at the way the blonde hugged the furs to her chest. She reached down and pulled another fur up over the naked blonde.

Clarke opened her eyes as she felt the soft fur slide against her hips and then ribs. She smiled and sat up, still clutching the fur to her chest. “You’re back.”

Lexa sighed and sat down on the bed, “I have to go. My presence is required at a council meeting. Apparently the clan leaders are not happy. And I need to deal with this.” She reached out and cupped a warm cheek, “this is going to probably take hours. You should sleep. You need to be up early for training.”

Clarke leaned into the warm, calloused palm. She turned her head and kissed her palm, “but then you will come back here? I mean even if I’m asleep, you could…” she shrugged, “you know wake me up,” she tried not to blush, but knew it was a losing battle.

Lexa leaned in and rubbed her nose lightly against Clarke’s. She leaned their foreheads together, “I’m sorry, Klark. But I can’t. Part of the problem is that the clan leaders are very displeased that I am spending so much time in your tent. They think that I am choosing you over them, that I am playing favorites, that I will not obey the law.” She bit her lip wondering if she should continue, but decided that Clarke had the right to know, “This has placed the Trikru, specifically me, in a rather precarious position. They think I am weak,” she whispered.

Clarke slid her hands around Lexa’s neck and kissed her. “You are not weak, Leska. You have never been weak. You brought peace to your people at great personal cost. Perhaps your people need to be reminded of why Heda chose you, and why they also need you.”

Lexa shook her head, but smiled as she pulled back, “Indra basically said the same thing. I never thought I would see the day that you two would agree on something or at least think along the same lines.”

“Yes, well. When it comes to you, I think Indra and I both agree that we care for you.” She tried to say it nonchalantly, like it was no big deal; but she saw the way Lexa’s eyes lit up. She pushed lightly against Lexa’s shoulders. “You should probably make yourself more presentable before leaving.”

Lexa nodded and stood up, stretching and then undid her coat, throwing it on the bed. She pulled off her shirt and dropped it on top of the coat. “Do you know where my bindings are? I’m not sure where I put them earlier.”

Clarke stood up, pulling the fur with her. She wrapped it around herself as the night was growing cooler, not to mention she was slightly embarrassed to be entirely naked when Lexa wasn’t. She stopped to admire the small, pert breasts as Lexa bent over, rummaging around near the end of the bed. She frowned when she noticed the lilac blossoms along her ribs from earlier. She swallowed hard and reached out gently caressing them.

Lexa froze for a moment, her skin twitching under Clarke’s gentle touch. She held her bindings in one hand that she had finally managed to find. She looked down at the bowed head and slid her fingers across Clarke’s trapping them against her warm flesh.

“Look at me.”

It took a moment but wet, blue eyes stared up at her, “I’m sorry, Leska.”

“No, Klark. You don’t need to apologize. Nothing is wrong. This is nothing.” She gently squeezed Clarke’s fingers to reassure her that she wasn’t angry, that she harbored no ill will against the blonde.

Clarke bit her lip, anxious about what she had done. “I will fix them,” she whispered and she leaned in and pressed her lips in the dip of Lexa’s shoulder. She slid her tongue against the skin, enjoying the salt on her tongue. She stepped back and looked down, seeing the brunette’s stomach muscles twitch. She licked her lips, when she noticed that the top button of her pants was still undone.

She slid her fingers down, briefly caressing the taught stomach before turning her wrist and sliding her hand down into Lexa’s pants. She felt the short hairs scrape across her palm, and she cupped Lexa’s wet sex. She bit her shoulder lightly, worrying the skin between her teeth.

Lexa groaned at the feel of the small hand in her pants. Her stomach muscles tightened, and she could feel her pulse already starting to pound. She grabbed at Clarke’s hand, pressing it against herself so she couldn’t move it. “Klark,” she hissed, “we don’t have time for this.”

Clarke smirked against the skin in her mouth, and flexed her fingers against Lexa’s heat, enjoying the low moan she managed to pull from the normally stoic brunette. She stared down where Lexa’s hand was trapping her own, and then she looked back up into wide, dark green eyes. She licked her lips, wondering if she dared. She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves.

She still clutched the fur around herself with one hand, but she dropped it and let the fur slide down to puddle at her feet. She blushed when she noticed Lexa staring hungrily at her, her pupils slightly dilated. She rested her free hand on Lexa’s right hip, and then in one smooth move, she dropped to her knees.

She smiled when she heard Lexa gasp, and she pulled her hand out of the other girl’s pants, only to then grab the top of her pants and start to pull them down.

Lexa gasped when Clarke gracefully fell to her knees. She had not imagined that Clarke would get on her knees for her, and she couldn’t deny the excitement that pinged low in her belly, and she felt moisture slick down her sex, and she tried not to groan when Clarke started to pull down her pants. Her hands trembled and nervous heat pricked along her skin.

She knew they probably didn’t have time, but she didn’t care. And besides, she could feel her body eagerly pushing into Clarke’s hands. It probably wouldn’t take longer than a moment or two for her to climax. She scowled internally at the thought that she wouldn’t last long against an eager mouth. But she was soon distracted by a puff of air against her sex.

Clarke pulled and pushed Lexa’s pants down past her knees, but then realized that the brunette wouldn’t be able to open her legs very wide. She grabbed Lexa’s left leg behind the knee, and pulled up so she could pull the pant leg off. She smiled when Lexa placed her hand on her head for balance, when she lifted her leg, and she hummed when Lexa didn’t remove her hand.

She nudged the brunette’s legs open wider and blew air across the other girl’s sex. She eyes the neatly trimmed, curly hair. It appeared to be a shade darker than the hair on her head, but then she realized it was darker because it was wet and slightly matted. She hesitated for a moment, her courage momentarily leaving her when she realized she wasn’t entirely sure how to approach this, how to begin, especially in a limited amount of time.

Lexa noticed the hesitation, and her stomach dropped slightly, but she reached down with her other hand and cupped Clarke’s chin. “You don’t have to do this, Klark. I do not expect it, and we don’t have a lot of time.” She let her thumb caress the corner of the blonde’s full lips, slightly relieved when the blonde turned her head enough to kiss her thumb.

Clarke felt her nerves steady under Lexa’s gentle smile, and when she felt the thumb caress the corner of her mouth, she turned and kissed the pad. She hesitated briefly and then leaned in and pressed her lips to her thumb again. She flicked her tongue out, tasting the rough skin, and before she quite knew what she was doing, she curled her tongue around her thumb drawing it into her mouth. She slid her tongue around Lexa’s thumb, smiling at the shudder that rattled through the other girl’s muscles. She felt her thumb twitch along her tongue, and she sucked it gently then released it with a pop.

She turned her attention back to Lexa’s sex, and this time she didn’t hesitate. She pressed the flat of her tongue against Lexa’s mound, enjoying the wet scrape of her curls against her lips. She wrapped her hands around the back of Lexa’s thighs and pulled her towards her, making the brunette almost lose her balance. She felt two hands twin themselves in her hair, cupping the back of her head.

“Kl…Klark, we don’t…” Lexa’s voice trailed off into a groan when she felt Clarke’s wet tongue slide between her lips and lick up her sex. She tightened her fingers in Clarke’s hair, knowing it wouldn’t take much more. She felt the heat curl in her belly, and her muscles start to tighten much too quickly for her liking. But it had been so long since she had been touched, since she had felt another’s caress, and the image of Clarke kneeling naked in front of her was forever burned into her mind.

Clarke smiled when she heard Lexa groan, and she pulled Lexa tightly against her mouth. She hesitantly tasted Lexa first, her tongue trembling as it slid through her wetness. She wasn’t sure what she would taste like, and she had worried about whether or not Lexa would like her taste and vice versa.

Clarke slid her tongue between her folds, curling through the wetness. She scooped it on her tongue, wet and heavy. She swallowed, letting the salt hit her tongue. At first it reminded her of the first time she got a mouthful of ocean water, how she had choked on the thick brine, how it had invaded all of her senses. Lexa tasted like the ocean except there was something sweet and earthy mixed in with it.

She smiled as she licked up Lexa’s sex, enjoying the taste of her in her mouth. She rested the tip of her tongue on the underside of Lexa’s clit, trying to remember what Lexa had done to her that she had enjoyed so much. She couldn’t remember as everything had felt so good, and she hadn’t been able to focus, not with her nerves pinging and her muscles shuddering.

She pulled back and lightly blew against Lexa, enjoying the little growl and the fingers that tightened in her hair, “Stop teasing!”

Clarke chuckled and acquiesced when she felt the hands gently tug her back into position. She knew they only had a few minutes before Indra would be back looking for Lexa, and she was determined to make her cum. It wasn’t the way she had envisioned first tasting Lexa, but she wasn’t sure when she would get the chance again.

She pushed her mouth into Lexa’s folds, eagerly letting her tongue roam along her sex, licking and nipping lightly. She slid her tongue along her inner folds, sucking the ruffled flesh into her mouth. She slid her tongue around her, pulling another moan deep from Lexa’s chest. She pulled back, her mouth and face glistening with Lexa’s wetness, and then she pushed back in quickly, but this time, rubbing her tongue over her clit. It wasn’t a particularly elegant attempt, as she was having trouble with the angle, but she managed to catch the bud between her lips. She suckled it, lettering her tongue bathe the tip of her clit, and she tried to maintain contact as Lexa gently pumped her hips against her mouth.

Lexa groaned as she felt Clarke’s hot mouth slide through her folds. It was messy and wet, and what Clarke lacked in technique, she more than made up for in enthusiasm. She clutched tighter at her head, when she felt the hot mouth enclose around her clit, sucking and licking at it.

“Harder, Klark,” she murmured as she couldn’t resist pushing her hips into Clarke’s mouth. She felt the sweat slick down her back, and her leg muscles trembled with the strain of holding herself up. She wanted to collapse fully into Clarke, wanted to cum in her mouth. She stared down with hooded gaze at the blonde on her knees. She hadn’t realized that such a thing would appeal to her so much. Costia had never gotten on her knees, and she felt desire quiver and push in her lower belly as the watched the blonde pleasure her.

She wasn’t stupid enough to believe that, even though Clarke was on her knees, it was herself with the power. No, the blonde held all the power just as she held Lexa in her mouth, drinking her in. Her muscles trembled, and she clenched her jaw trying to hold back another moan as she felt Clarke’s tongue prod at her entrance.

Clarke let go of Lexa’s clit and licked up and down her sex, enjoying the feel of the wet, silky flesh against her tongue. She hunched her back trying to get a better angle so she could push her tongue into Lexa’s entrance, but she was unable to do more than prod at it gently. She swirled her tongue around her entrance, noting that her taste was stronger here, darker, earthier, muskier. She winced when she heard herself slurp, but she couldn’t help it as she continued to flick her tongue against Lexa’s entrance, and even though Lexa canted her hips up, she still couldn’t make it work.

Instead she licked up between her inner lips, and curled her tongue around Lexa’s clit again, feeling it pulse lightly. She suckled lightly, feeling it swell against her tongue, and she rapidly flicked her tongue over the tip of it. She winced slightly at the feel of Lexa’s fingers digging into her scalp, but she pressed harder into Lexa, sucking harder. She could barely breathe, but she could feel the brunette’s muscles trembling, and feel her heart pulse in her clit. She scraped her teeth lightly over the bud, and was rewarded with a loud groan and Lexa pushing her hips sharply into her mouth. She felt her muscles stiffen, and then she felt moisture slick against her chin.

She continued to suck even when she felt Lexa try to push her away, even when she heard her whimper. She pulled Lexa hard back into her mouth, flicking her tongue rapidly over her swollen, pulsing clit. She felt Lexa’s muscles tighten again, and the girl whimpered and groaned, twisting in her arms as she pumped her hips against Clarke.

Lexa twisted, trying to get away from the hot insistent mouth that continued to suck and scrape at her over-stimulated clit. She tried pushing Clarke away, but the moment she did, she immediately clasped Clarke behind the head again and pulled the blonde back to her. She felt her muscles jump under her skin, and her clit ached, hurt; and yet it was a delicious pain that shot down her nerves as the blonde refused to give up her prize. She pumped her hips into Clarke’s mouth, and when the blonde scraped her teeth over her clit again, and sucked hard against her pulse; she let go again, groaning hoarsely as the pleasure surged through her tightened muscles.

Her hips faltered and lost their rhythm, and slowed; and she felt gentle numbness spread across her sex. She loosened her fingers, realizing too late that she had had a stranglehold on Clarke’s head, probably hurting the blonde a little.

“Klark…” her voice scratched in her throat, and she coughed to clear her throat, and then cupped the blonde’s face with both hands, forcing her to finally let go. She stared down into dilated blue eyes, and noticed her wetness slicked across the blonde’s mouth, chin and even cheeks. She chuckled. “You are a mess. A beautiful mess.”

Clarke laughed, and with Lexa’s help, managed to stand on shaky legs. “Sha, well it’s your fault. You made a mess out of me.” She wrapped her arms around Lexa enjoying the feel of her solid, sweaty body against her own.

She pulled back just in time for Lexa to bend down and kiss her. She laughed as Lexa lapped the stickiness off her face. When she was done, she buried her head in the crook of Clarke’s neck, letting her body sag against the blonde’s. Her muscles still trembled, and she needed to hurry before Indra showed up again.

Lexa reluctantly stepped out of the blonde’s arms, letting her hands trail down Clarke’s arms, until her fingers caught Clarke’s. She leaned her forehead against Clarke’s, “That was…mochof, Klark.”

Clarke bit her lip and whispered back, “Was it ok? I mean, I’m sorry, I’ve never done that before, and I didn’t have a lot of time. And I know I probably wasn’t as good as Costia,” Clarke took a deep breath knowing she was rambling but too nervous and suddenly worried to stop the words pouring from her mouth. “I mean know it probably wasn’t the way you wanted, but I really just wanted to….I just wanted…” her voice trailed off, and she blushed and muttered, “I just wanted to taste you, feel you in my mouth.”

Lexa couldn’t stop the small groan that wrung itself from her chest. She pulled Clarke fully into her, grabbing her by the hips. “Shush, Klark. You were perfect. It was perfect. Do not ever compare yourself to Costia,” she caught Clarke’s protests with her mouth, slipping her tongue into the blonde’s hot mouth, still tasting herself on the blonde. She pulled back enjoying the slightly dazed expression on the blonde’s face. “It felt amazing,” she smirked at the blonde and continued, “Did you somehow miss exactly how I felt about your mouth on me?”

She laughed when the blonde rolled her eyes and swatted her on her shoulder. “Ok, yes, you obviously enjoyed yourself, and so did I.” She reluctantly pulled away from Lexa, frowning, “Indra will be here any moment ready to kill me for keeping you. Come one I will help you.”

*************************************

Lexa hurriedly washed herself, regretting that she had to wash away the scent of Clarke on her. But now she stood in the middle of the room in fresh underwear and pants, smiling tenderly as the blonde wrapped her bindings around her chest. She stared at Clarke in tender amusement noting that when Clarke concentrated really hard, her tongue tended to peek out of the corner of her mouth. She wanted to bend down and capture it with her own mouth, but knew now was not the time.

She hummed contentedly at the feel of nimble fingers wrapping the cloth around her chest, and tucking the end in correctly. She watched as Clarke carefully pulled each strip of cloth making sure there wasn’t a single wrinkle. Once done, she helped Lexa on with her shirt, and while Lexa fastened her coat and sword, Clarke went to get her kohl.

Clarke watched carefully as Lexa applied the kohl quickly, and when she was done; she leaned in and pressed a kiss against the side of Lexa’s neck. Lexa hugged her and turned to leave the tent, and Clarke simply couldn’t resist. She swatted Lexa right on her ass and then immediately jumped into bed, throwing a fur over herself to hide.

Lexa froze when she felt Clarke smack her bottom, and she felt heat curl in her belly, and she shook her head in amusement as she heard the blonde scramble back to the bed. She turned slowly, eying the lump under the furs.

She tried not to laugh, but instead managed to say in her most calm but firm voice, “You can’t hide from me forever, Klark.” Her voice dripped husky promises, “You will pay for your insolence.” And with that she turned and walked out of the tent, sadly pushing thoughts of Clarke from her mind as she readied herself to deal with the council.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...thoughts? 
> 
> Ok...so I'm thinking 1-2 chapters more, then we get to the Trial, which will be 2-3 chapters, then probably 1 chapter to tie up some loose ends; and then the last 2 chapter will take place in....Polis! At least that is the plan. So optimistically, I'm thinking 8 more chapters max, and this will hopefully be done by Thanksgiving. Then on to some others that I have been working on.


	33. Chapter 32: Sorry

Hi Guys,

So I'm not posting tonight. I'm really sorry, but the chapter is only about 1/4 done. I've been sick lately and had some tests done; and I won't bore you with the details; but I'm not feeling quite up to par. Mondays have also become an issue with posting, so I'm going to switch to Thursday. I think it will be easier and less stressful for me.

So I should have this up on Thursday, if not sooner. Sorry again. :(


	34. Chapter 32: The Teacher and the Student

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your well wishes for my health. I do appreciate it. I'm still really sick, but managed to write this chapter. I really thought it would suck, and I was hoping just to get 2,500 words, but I ended up with 8,000. Fen Dal surprised me. Hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Also...why is A03 being an azzhat? It won't let me post RTF, which means I have to do HTML, with all the stupid codes. I apologize if I don't get all the formatting fixed.

Clarke woke in the early morning hours, knowing that the other side of the furs would be cold, but she still couldn’t squelch the feeling of disappointment. She had known that she would wake up alone, but still part of her had hoped that Lexa would defy her council and make her way to Clarke’s tent sometime during the night. 

She sighed as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She sat there for a few moments trying to gather her bearings, trying to push the remnants of a restless sleep from her mind. She sighed as she rubbed her hands over her face, wincing at the pressure on the new callouses on her hands. She groaned and heaved herself out of bed, knowing she would need to meet Fen Dal in the clearing soon. 

She washed quickly in the cool air in her tent. Planting time might have arrived, but the air still had a bite to it in the mornings and evenings. She stood in front of the broken piece of glass, critically examining her appearance. She smirked at the dark flowers along her neck and chest. They stood out sharply against her pale skin, and she briefly admired them before reluctantly covering them. 

She had thought that she might be a little annoyed at the demanding claims of possession that marked her body, but she found herself strangely pleased by them. She was even more surprised that she wanted to show them off, to show that Lexa had seen fit to mark her, just as she had marked Lexa. She wondered what Lexa’s neck and collarbones looked like this morning. She knew she had bit more than a few times, perhaps a bit too hard, but Lexa had accepted her teeth without a wince. She chuckled and shook her head, enjoying the pleasant flush along her skin at the thought of Lexa’s flesh in her mouth. 

She ran her fingers through her knotted hair, wincing as she tried to pull the strands a part. She looked around for a comb or anything to help tame the knots in her hair but couldn’t find what she was looking for. She was starting to get irritated as she hurriedly searched the tent, when she heard the soft voice. 

“Clarke? Clarke, are you still in here?” 

Clarke hesitated for a moment trying to place the voice outside her tent. She smiled once she realized who it was, and she quickly made her way into the outer room. 

“Peregrine! Hello, come in!” She gestured to her friend to come further into the tent as she made her way over to the table. She briefly perused the fruit, grabbing two pieces and offering one to Peregrine. 

Peregrine smiled but shook her head, “No, mochof. I’ve already eaten. But I did bring something for you.” She gestured with her head at her arms, and Clarke noticed for the first time that her arms were full. 

“Oh, ok,” Clarke glanced curiously at the bundle in Peregrine’s arms as she bit into the fruit. She wiped the juice from her lips and leaned a hip against the table, while Peregrine set the items on the table. “So what is all of this?” She gestured idly at the bundle that Peregrine was slowly unwrapping. She immediately smiled when she saw the bone comb and long, thin leather strips. 

“I thought I would braid your hair, something befitting the Skai Heda.” Peregrine smiled and walked over to Clarke, giving her a quick hug. She then tugged on Clarke’s shoulders, guiding her to sit in the chair. She busied herself organizing the thin, leather strips. They were soft and supple and perfect for holding the braids. She pulled a few trinkets out of her pocket and carefully set them on the table. 

Clarke smiled as she sat in the chair, leaning her head back slightly as Peregrine carefully started to untangle the snarls. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she enjoyed the feel of the comb lightly digging into her scalp and scraping through her hair. She ignored the small tugs, and she muttered an apology when she heard Peregrine huff in frustration as she continued trying to untangle the snarls. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty much a mess. I hadn’t really felt like doing much with it,” she shrugged a little, but relaxed when Peregrine patted her on the shoulder. 

“It’s ok, I like a challenge,” she laughed and continued to work out the snarls. She hummed quietly under her breath as she parted the heavy blonde hair. She picked up a few strips of soft leather and put the ends in her mouth as she finished separating the hair. 

“So…you and the Heda?” 

Clarke jerked sharply at the sound of the teasing voice. She turned abruptly, wincing as her hair twisted as she craned her neck to look into the laughing, golden eyes of her friend. “Peri!” 

“What? You mean when Heda comes to your tent, you do nothing? You feel nothing?” mumbled the other girl as she continued braiding and twisting Clarke’s hair into elaborate patterns. She took the strips out of her mouth, deftly weaving them into the braids. 

Clarke couldn’t fight the blush that crawled up her neck and face, but she refused to give in to the other girl’s teasing. “It’s none of your business,” she exclaimed hotly, “by the way, I’m surprised you are even joking about it. It’s Heda like a god to you or something?”

Peregrine snorted at Clarke, not bothering to hide her chuckle. “No, Heda is not a god. She is mortal, although many might think she is a god.” 

“But isn’t she sort of like a god? I mean the Heda’s spirit is reincarnated over and over again, right?” 

Peregrine hummed quietly as she grabbed a couple of tokens from the table and started to weave them into Clarke’s hair. She hesitated a moment, letting the thick hair flow over her fingers. She rubbed the gold between her fingers, contemplating the question. 

“Heda is immortal, but Lexa is not. She bleeds and dies like the rest of us. Perhaps more than the rest of us,” she murmured quietly, lost in thought. 

“What do you mean more than the rest of us?” Clarke reached up hesitantly and let her fingers run over the braids along the side of her head. She jerked her hand back quickly when Peregrine slapped her hand lightly and grunted at her. 

Peregrine sighed and let her hands still briefly as she wondered how to answer Clarke’s question. Very few questioned the mysticism of the Heda, probably partially from fear of the unknown, but she doubted Clarke would be content with vague answers. 

“The Spirit of Heda is immortal, but it experiences something much like death when the current Heda dies. Lexa will die someday, and the spirit will experience a great loss and will wander until it finds its next host. So yes, the spirit is immortal, but it is believed that it too experiences pain. In a way, Lexa will die twice.” She ran her fingers over the braids, finding too many lumps, and started to undo two of them in order to rebraid them. She ran the comb through the heavy hair, gently parting it again. 

Clarke was quiet, absorbing all of what she had said. She mulled it over and over again in her mind. “Will the spirit carry part of Lexa with it to the next host?” 

Peregrine hesitated. No one had ever asked her that question before, and no one ever really spoke of it, certainly not the Hedas. “No one knows for sure, but yes, I think so. It would explain why when the Heda ascends they are gifted with great strength and clarity of mind. They seem to know how to do things they did not before. It is probably because the previous Hedas have imparted their knowledge through the spirit.” 

Clarke nodded. It made sense, at least as much sense at anything did down here on the ground. She closed her eyes and let Peregrine’s hands soothe her as they continued to brush her hair and deftly create more and more braids. She opened her eyes. 

“Who is Fen Dal?”

She held her breath when she felt the hands falter in her hair, and the humming die in Peregrine’s throat. There was silence for a moment, and then Peregrine continued quickly twisting her hair. Clarke winced as her movements were a little rougher than before. 

“Well? Who is she, Peregrine?”

Peregrine ignored her, working quickly to finish the braids. She tied off the last one, and pushed against Clarke’s shoulders and back to make her rise from the chair. But Clarke refused to budge, instead twisting in the chair and reaching back and grabbing her friend’s hand. 

“Why is Fen Dal such a big secret? Shouldn’t I know who is training me?” She implored Peregrine quietly. She narrowed her eyes when she saw golden eyes dart nervously away from her own. 

“I know nothing of Fen Dal.” Peregrine pulled back on her hand, hoping Clarke would simply release her, but instead Clarke rose quickly from her chair and grabbed Peregrine’s other hand, pulling her into her body and wrapping her arms around her. They might have been the same height, but Clarke was stockier and more muscled. 

“You lie, Peregrine.” She whispered as she tightened her grip around Peregrine’s waist. “Now how about we try this again. Who. Is. Fen. Dal?” She grit her teeth when Peregrine stomped on her foot. 

“Is this how you treat your friends, Clarke? You grab them and hold them against their will?” Peregrine pushed at Clarke, smiling when Clarke winced as she stomped on the blonde’s foot. She pulled back and glared at the blonde, who simply looked at her with wide eyes. 

“No, this is how I treat liars.” She glared at Peregrine, but when the other girl made it clear she wouldn’t give in, Clarke released her. Clarke grumbled under her breath, knowing she had been wrong. “I’m sorry, Peri, you are right. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just that…I…I’m so tired of all the secrets. I know Lexa has secrets, and she is entitled to them as Heda. I guess. But you…” she sighed and rubbed her hands together briskly, shaking out her shoulders. 

Peregrine sighed, shaking her head wishing Heda would just tell the girl. She gathered up her supplies, but hesitated. She looked back at Clarke, but was greeted with the other girl’s back. 

“Fen Dal was a famed warrior. She was Heda’s greatest general.” 

Clarke froze, barely daring to breathe. She didn’t want to move a muscle, worried that if she did, Peregrine would stop speaking. She felt her heart thump a little harder, and her belly twisted with nerves. 

“But she was more than that…” Peregrine idly ran her fingers across the comb remembering the events that had happened years ago. She had not been part of them, but she had been privy to them, for Costia had been her friend; and as a result, she had known Heda before she ascended. 

“Fen Dal was Heda’s protector before she ever ascended, even before Heda had been taken to Polis. Fen Dal followed Heda to Polis and trained there, vowing to protect her with her life.” She felt her throat tighten as she remembered what had happened next to the brave and selfless warrior that she had greatly admired as child.

“She lived to serve Heda, and she was Heda’s most trusted advisor. Even friend. Fen Dal loved Heda, and she was the first Jusgona,” she whispered, “but there was only one other that she loved more than Heda; and it would be her undoing.” 

Clarke stood quietly, the only sounds their heavy breathing. But when Peregrine remained silent, she finally broke it. 

“Jusgona?” She waited, but nothing. She turned carefully and was startled at the tears that had slipped from golden eyes. She felt her heart clench tightly for a moment, wondering what could have been so awful that would have torn Fen Dal and Lexa a part that would cause this woman to cry years later. And even as she wondered she knew the answer. 

“Costia,” she breathed out into the still air. She saw Peregrine’s eyes flicker for a moment, before the other girl quickly wiped her tears away with the hem of her sleeve. 

“This really isn’t my story to tell, Clarke. Heda will be extremely angry if she knew I had told you. And so would Fen Dal.” She winced when she said her name, the pain she had borne as a young girl having never quite faded. She shook her head, refusing to dwell any more on Fen Dal. Fen Dal had never noticed her then, and she wouldn’t now. 

“Come. You should get to training. I believe Heda has something for you.”

Clarke reached out impulsively and wrapped Peregrine into a hug, “It’s ok. Your secret is safe with me, Peri.” And she quickly kissed her on the cheek and then exited the tent leaving behind a surprised Peregrine. 

****************************************** 

Clarke was making her way to the clearing, passing by the food tables to snag something to eat, while trying to avoid many of the other clan warriors. She noticed that a number of warriors followed her, keeping their distance, but still close enough to interfere if there was trouble. She had rolled her eyes when she first noticed them a few days ago, but rather than confront Lexa about her new guard; she had decided to simply accept it for the gesture that it was. Lexa cared and worried enough that she wanted to protect her.

She was perusing the food items laid out on the rough tables when she heard her name shouted. She looked up quickly and laughed in relief when she saw her mother. She waited for the older woman to make her way to her and wrap her in a strong embrace.

“What are you doing here, mum? I thought you had to return to Camp Jaha?” 

“I did, but only long enough to pick up some supplies.” Abby hugged her daughter tighter, ignoring the little squeal from Clarke. “Did you really think I would stay at Camp Jaha with all of this happening?” 

Clarke chuckled and let herself enjoy the embrace for a few moments longer, before pulling back and looking closely at her mother. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her skin was a little paler, and perhaps she was a little thinner also. But Clarke smiled when she saw the braids. She reached up and ran her fingers lightly over the simple braids that held her mother’s hair back. 

“I see you’ve gone grounder,” she teased lightly and then laughed when her mother hit her lightly on the arm. 

“You are one to talk. Your braids are beautiful.” Abby leaned in to take a closer look, admiring the intricacies of the braids and leather strips. She cupped Clarke’s face in her hands and kissed her lightly. 

“We need to talk. I brought some things back from Camp Jaha that you need to look at.” 

Clarke nodded and hugged her mum tightly again before letting her go, “Ok. I have to get to the clearing for training, but I will be done in about four hours. If Fen Dal doesn’t kill me before then,” she rolled her eyes and huffed lightly at the thought of the new bruises she would end up with after today. 

“Ok. I will meet you in your tent, but it is important, Clarke. Ok?” She grabbed a couple of pieces of meat and pushed them into her daughter’s hand, concerned that she hadn’t taken enough food for herself. 

Clarke tried not to roll her eyes at her mother’s blatant attempt at fattening her up. “Don’t worry. I will be fine. I will see you later.” She waved and jogged off, noting the guard that quickly straightened from their ill-disguised lounging and followed behind at a reasonable distance. 

**************************************** 

“Get up and do it again, Skai Girl.” Fen Dal looked down with no little amount of amusement at the girl sitting in the dirt. She twirled her sword and waited for the girl to get back up. But as soon as Clarke started to get up, she kicked her back into the dirt. 

“What the actual fuck, Fen Dal!” snarled Clarke as she landed on her back with a thud. She got her feet under herself again, but as soon she attempted to rise, Fen Dal shoved her back into the dirt again, but this time with her arm. 

Clarke scooted back on her butt as quickly as she could, trying to put distance between herself and the advancing Fen Dal. She needed time to get back up, and she quickly tucked and rolled, and just as she got to her feet, Fen Dal punched her hard in the shoulder and tripped her. 

She snarled as she landed hard on the ground again. She was covered in dirt and her braids were coming undone, and she had spent the last twenty minutes trying to get to her feet, but every time she almost got back up, Fen Dal would knock her down again. 

“Get up, Skai Girl. I don’t have all day. You are wasting my valuable time,” smirked Fen Dal as she glared arrogantly at the dirty girl crouched in the dirt. 

“Oh really? Your time is that precious? What did I interrupt? Huh, Fen Dal? Did I take you away from chasing the rats in your fucking hole of a cell? Or maybe you were busy counting each second of your life ticking by while you were locked up for being a Natrona?” Clarke spit out, her voice dripping venom. 

She knew antagonizing the warrior was stupid, but she was beyond frustrated that instead of teaching her anything, Fen Dal kept knocking her back in to the dirt. She had two days left, and instead of helping her, Fen Dal was playing with her. 

She couldn’t help by cry out when she felt the sudden, vicious tug in her hair. And she blinked stupidly wondering how Fen Dal had moved so quickly. She bit down on her lip hard in order to not cry out again, as Fen Dal fisted her hair even tighter. She swallowed feeling the sharp blade at her throat. She stared up into the impassive face of Fen Dal, and that was when she realized just how stupid she had been. There was no anger in the woman’s face. There was simply nothing. Just dark, bottomless eyes. She tried not to shudder. 

“Let her go.”

Fen Dal tensed at the sound of the voice, and slowly turned her head to see Lexa standing only a few feet away, her hand on her sword, her face calm, betraying nothing. She nodded slowly and pulled her sword back, and unclenched her fist letting Clarke’s hair slide between her fingers. 

“Of course, Heda,” and she bowed in mock deference and deliberately turned her back on Lexa, walking over to the side to grab a skin of water. 

Clarke slowly dragged herself to her feet, her anger somewhat forgotten in the face of Fen Dal’s stoic contempt. She couldn’t quite meet Lexa’s eyes as she casually tried to brush the dirt off her clothes. 

Lexa gazed calmly between the two of them, but her heart thudded chaotically in her chest. The fear that had gripped her when she had seen Clarke trapped in Fen Dal’s grasp, had been mind-numbingly overwhelming. It had taken all of her will power to not hurl her dagger into Fen Dal’s chest. And even now that she knew Clarke was uninjured, she still wanted to bury her dagger in Fen Dal, make her pay for the corrosive fear that had ensnared Lexa. 

Instead she strode calmly towards Clarke, taking great effort to not hurry her feet. She stood in front of her, willing the blonde to look at her who finally did. She resisted the urge to tug Clarke to her chest and check her for injuries herself. 

Once Clarke brushed off the dirt, she knew she could no longer ignore the brunette who stood before her, waiting patiently. She sighed and finally met concerned green eyes. She gave a little nod, and despite her face never giving anything away, Clarke saw the instant relief that shown in the green eyes. 

Lexa turned an eyed the impassive Fen Dal who squatted in the dirt, much like she had a few days ago. Fen Dal merely stared at her, her dark eyes giving away nothing, before she deliberately turned away from Lexa’s searching eyes. 

Lexa sighed, “How is the training going?” She looked between Clarke and Fen Dal, but neither would look at her. She arched an eyebrow, feeling her irritation grow. She turned to Mordecai, who simply shrugged. Lexa growled under her breath, “Someone had better explain to me what the issue here is. Klark?” 

Clarke sighed, not wanting to tell Lexa about why she had been so angry, because the more she thought about it; the more she realized she was probably being childish. She had been upset since waking in the morning without Lexa, despite knowing that it was the way it had to be. For now. 

“I lost my temper. I didn’t think Fen Dal was being particularly helpful in my training as she simply kept knocking me down every time I tried to get back up,” Clarke winced as she said it, knowing just how petulant she sounded. She shook her head, feeling the braids brush her cheek. “It is nothing, Les-Heda. It is my fault.” 

Lexa gazed at her for a moment, her brow slightly furrowed. Her hand trembled, and she wrapped it quickly around her sword handle in order to resist the temptation of reaching out and touching the braids. They were beautiful and intricately woven. She smiled at the little bits of seashells and flowers that were woven in with the fine leather strips. She wondered who had done the braids, and more importantly, did Clarke understand the meaning behind the braids?

Lexa sighed again and turned to Fen Dal, arching one eyebrow. Her meaning was clear, and she waited even as Fen Dal chose to ignore her. But she knew Fen Dal would eventually turn and answer her unspoken question. She couldn’t ignore Lexa forever. She had never been able to, she never would. Even after all these years, their broken bond still shimmered between them, tethering them together just as it always had. 

Fen Dal could feel the weight of Lexa’s gaze upon her, and try as she might, she knew she would eventually cave. She had always bowed to Lexa, except for one time; and she had paid the harshest price for her disobedience. She snarled and finally met Lexa’s cool gaze. 

“How is she to learn how to fight to get up, Heda, if I keep allowing her to get up on her own? Bardou will not be so kind as to back up and let her get to her feet.” Fen Dal stood and took a menacing step towards Lexa, “No, Bardou will kill her once she is on the ground. She must learn to get to her feet quickly, before he can crush her with his ax.” 

Lexa lifted her chin at Fen Dal, knowing she was correct. She kept her body facing Fen Dal, but turned her head to look at Clarke. “Fen Dal is correct. Bardou will not show you any mercy. You must learn to get to your feet quickly. Now get up and do it again.” 

Clarke clenched her teeth in anger, even as she tried to take deep breaths to reign in her frustration. She nodded briskly at Lexa and grabbed her blades and made her way towards Fen Dal. But she stopped when she felt Lexa turn her body into hers, their shoulders brushing. She hesitated just long enough to feel the deliberate scrape of a hand along her hip. She barely nodded and continued towards Fen Dal, gripping her blades. 

Fen Dal nodded and walked over to Mordecai, “Do you have it?” 

Mordecai looked to Lexa and when she nodded, she strode over to her horse and untied a package from it. She unwrapped it and then tossed the two headed ax to Fen Dal who caught it easily. She hefted its weight in her hand and twirled it around her body. “Good.” 

She turned back towards Clarke, smirking at how the younger girl’s eyes had widened. “This is the weapon of choice of your opponent. He is a master at the ax. He is tall and strong, but he isn’t very smart. Nor is he very fast. He relies on his brute strength, and therein lies his weakness.” 

She circled around Clarke, always keeping the girl directly in her sight. She was pleased to note that Clarke moved with her, always keeping her within her own sight, her blades up and at the ready. She smirked at the drops of sweat that rolled off the lightly gold cheeks that were flushed red from exertion and the heat of the day. She continued to effortlessly twirl the ax, and then she scooped up a shield and crouched down in front of Clarke. 

“Tell me, Skai Girl, how are you going to defeat this monster of a man with his two-headed ax?” 

Clarke felt the first inklings of fear. Up until now, she had managed to push it aside, to ignore it, but now that she was faced with the actual weapon, she realized it could easily cleave her in two. She swallowed hard, suddenly desperate for a drink to ease her parched throat. She looked quickly towards Lexa who gave her a short nod, her face impassive as usual. 

But Clarke knew, she could tell from the utter stillness of Lexa’s chest, that she was holding her breath; tense, afraid; but unwilling to show any lack of faith in Clarke. It bolstered her own flagging courage and she nodded sharply at Fen Dal. 

“I must not attack first. I must wait. I must make him come out of his comfort zone, put him on edge.” She slowly circled Fen Dal, pleased when her trainer nodded her head sharply at her. “I must make sure he attacks first, because then he will be irritated, and he will lose focus.” She continued to circle Fen Dal warily, unsure how she would get Fen Dal to attack her. 

“How will you meet his ax? You only have two blades?” Fen Dal jerked the ax at Clarke, glaring hard at the blonde when she flinched, “Do not flinch!” 

Clarke took a deep breath and inched closer to Fen Dal, twirling both blades in her hands, absorbing the weight of them, taking comfort in them. Her mind stumbled erratically at the possibilities. How could she stop the swing of such a huge weapon? It had to weight twenty or more pounds. She jerked hard, almost losing her balance when Fen Dal rushed her only to pull back abruptly. She steadied herself and looked at Fen Dal defiantly, even though she was sure her heart would explode against her ribs any moment. 

“Well? I’m waiting, Skai Girl?” snarled Fen Dal as she suddenly rushed Clarke, pushing her to the ground before Clarke could scramble out of the way. Fen Dal deliberately dropped the ax on Clarke’s chest, letting her feel the full weight of it. 

Clarke tried to catch the groan in her chest when the heavy weapon thumped into her flesh, but she couldn’t. She sat up and grasped the handle of the ax, shocked at how much it weighed. It definitely weighed more than twenty pounds, and she realized with startling clarity that all it would take would be one blow, and she would be dead or at least missing limbs. She dragged herself to her feet and hefted the ax with both hands. She hefted it to her shoulder and then swung down with all her might letting it split the earth in front of her. Her arms shook and shuddered with the impact, and she bit her lower lip hard from the pain that scoured her muscles. 

She tasted the iron on her tongue, and she spit. She started at the small wad of blood staining the dusty ground. But she imagined a much bigger pool of blood. Her blood, and she pictured her pale, chopped limps staining the ground. She felt the bile rise in her throat, and she barely managed to choke it back. 

She looked up at Lexa, the tears swimming in her eyes, and she felt the fear claw at her belly. One blow and she would be dead. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, realizing now was not the time. She couldn’t afford to show any weakness, and Lexa couldn’t afford to acknowledge it. 

Lexa gripped the handle of her sword hard. She felt it dig into her palm, and she was sure the handle would cut to the bone, she was squeezing it so hard. She wanted to reach out and grab Clarke, pull her into her arms, hold her, and keep her from what was to come. She felt her heart thump hard against her ribs, and she let out a shaky breath. She nodded at Clarke again, begging her to understand why she couldn’t walk over and wrap the blonde up in her arms. 

Mordecai glanced uneasily at Indra, who simply stared straight ahead, but a muscle ticked in her jaw. Mordecai bit back her own sigh, refusing to acknowledge the sinking sensation in her chest. She stepped forward, breaking the silence. 

“You cannot meet his ax, Skai Heda. You must do not have the strength to stop his downward motion,” she walked over to Clarke, taking the ax from her numb hands. She refused to look at Heda, knowing she was interfering where she might not be welcome.

“You must avoid his ax at all costs,” she stopped when Clarke snorted and rolled her eyes at her. She pulled the ax from her grasp and hefted it to her shoulder gesturing for Clarke to stand back. “Come Fen Dal, why don’t you show us why you were once the most feared of Heda’s generals?” And she bent her knees slightly, the ax resting on her shoulder. 

Fen Dal stood up from her crouch and glanced at Lexa, cursing even as she did it. It was becoming like second nature again to look to Lexa, to seek her permission, her voice, her approval. She threw the shield away and gestured impatiently towards Clarke, “your blades. Now.” And she caught them easily when Clarke threw them to her. She twirled the twin blades in her hands, hefting the weight, getting a feel for them. 

She and Mordecai slowly circled each other, each waiting for an opening, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Finally Mordecai thought she saw an opening and leaped, bringing her ax crashing down into the dusty earth where Fen Dal had once stood. She turned quickly, but not quickly enough as Fen Dal had rolled and come up behind her, hitting her in the back with the flat of her blades. 

Lexa moved to stand next to Clarke, their shoulders just barely brushing, “watch carefully, Klark. Mordecai is rushing into the fight, much like Bardou will probably do. See how she is all strength and fury, but the ax weighs her down?” Clarke nodded, trying not to wince as the two traded blows. But she was unsuccessful when Mordecai broke Fen Dal’s nose with the handle of her ax, but Fen Dal retaliated by slamming the butt of one of her blades into Mordecai’s kidney. 

“Watch how Fen Dal moves. She is always moving, but none of her movements are wasted. Each is carefully timed. She must stay out of Mordecai’s reach and wear her down.” Lexa turned and looked at Clarke’s profile, her mouth slightly dry as she gazed at her. She couldn’t resist, and the fingers of her right hand scraped against Clarke’s, briefly tangling before pulling back. 

Lexa turned her attention back to the fight, admiring the carefully placed cuts along Mordecai’s strong body. They were all bleeding sluggishly, but none were life threatening. Fen Dal was too well trained to cut deeper than necessary. She bit her lower lip, her hand clenching around the handle of her sword. She worried it for a moment, her eyes glazing over as she remembered another time, another place. 

“Good, Lexa. But remember, that when you roll to your feet, you must spin so your blade is out and already cutting at your opponent’s legs.” 

Lexa stood, chest heaving, and sweat running down the side of her face. She nodded towards her general. They had been at it for 3 hours already, and her body was starting to slow, but she could feel that she was stronger than the week before. She crouched low, readying her sword for the next attack, when she heard her mentor’s voice ring out.

“Em pleni. That is enough for now. She must meet with her other generals.”

Lexa stood and nodded towards Anya who had been watching from the side lines. She turned and smiled briefly in her general’s direction, who nodded in return. Lexa started to amble away when she heard her again, “Remember, Lexa, you do not need to be the strongest, just the smartest. Fight smart, and you will win.” 

“Sha, Fen Dal. Sha.” And she made her way towards her tent to speak with her generals, not knowing that Anya and Fen Dal both watched her, speaking quietly to each other.

Lexa blinked hard, and shook her head roughly, ignoring the questioning look Clarke gave her. Mordecai was on her back, her ax off to the side, and Fen Dal was straddling her, the tip of her blade digging under her chin.

“Em pleni.” 

Fen Dal quickly rolled off of Mordecai, not even hesitating when she heard Lexa’s voice. She stood and reached down a hand to help Mordecai up, knowing Mordecai didn’t need the help. It was a gesture of peace, of recognition between warriors, between sisters. 

Mordecai stared at the outstretched hand for a moment, tempted to swat it aside. But this was the infamous Fen Dal, the only warrior to openly defy Heda and live to tell the tale. The warrior who had united the clans, for it may have been Heda’s vision and will; but Fen Dal had been the weapon that Heda had wielded in order to see it through to the end.

She let her gaze travel across the marred skin of her arms, but she had paid a hefty price; and Mordecai wondered if it had been worth it. She slowly reached up, clasping the rough hand in her own, and let Fen Dal pull her to her feet.

“You fought well, Mordecai.” Mordecai simply grunted at her, embarrassed that she had immediately felt both relief and pride upon hearing Fen Dal’s words. She knocked the dirt off her pants, noting the numerous shallow cuts along her torso. She stared at them bemusedly, all too aware that any of them could have easily been life-threatening if Fen Dal had deemed it so. 

Fen Dal wiped the drying blood off her face, ignoring the pain that seared her nose. She was littered in bruises and scrapes. Mordecai had fought well. Fen Dal remembered the young warrior back when she had been a Sesken. She had showed great promise then, and Fen Dal felt pride at knowing the Sesken had become a great warrior. She had considered at one point accepting her as her Sesken, but her time and duties had been so devoted to Lexa, that there hadn’t been time to train a Sesken. She shook her head briefly, turning her back on her captive audience. She felt something strange burn in her throat, and she refused to think of the days when she rode into battle by Lexa’s side, when she supped with her in her tent, laughed with her, even teased her about her burgeoning love for the young Costia. 

Costia. She felt her throat tighten at the thought of the young Fisa. She had deserved better than she had received. She had deserved justice, and if not justice, then vengeance. And yet for some reason, that old hateful fire didn’t burn quite as bright in her chest when she thought of Lexa’s betrayal. Perhaps she was getting too old. She snorted at the thought. She was tired of vengeance and hate, tired of living her remaining days in a cage. She threw the remaining blade to the side, crossing her arms, her palms scraping the marred skin of her biceps. She grit her teeth, feeling the anger burn along her nerves. Lexa had taken everything from her. Her family, her clan, her very way of life. She shook her head in frustration and turned back to the others. 

“Well? What did you learn, Skai Girl?” 

Clarke startled as she looked at the bruised and bloody Fen Dal. Her brow furrowed for a moment and then she muttered, “Not to piss you off.” 

She was shocked by the unexpected bark of laughter that ripped from Fen Dal’s throat, and she felt Lexa stiffen next to her. Her mouth dropped open slightly, and she thought what the hell. So she shrugged and laughed with Fen Dal who simply shook her head amusedly, her long, dirty hair hanging in her face. 

“I can’t defeat Bardou at his own game. I have to make him fight my way.” She walked over to Fen Dal, sparing a glance at Mordecai who nodded her head slowly. She bent down and scooped up the ax. She hefted it and turned to face them all. “This will kill me with one blow or at the very least chop off one of my limbs.” She turned and started to pace, still holding the ax, twirling it in her hands. Her boots scuffed up little dirt devils as she continued to think out loud, no longer paying the others any attention. 

“My blades are too light and short to stop a downward swing of the ax. Hell, I don’t have the strength to stop a downward swing,” she mused quietly as she continued to think, still pacing. 

“So what do you have?” 

Clarke looked up briefly at Lexa when she spoke and then quickly looked at the others who stared expectantly at her, including Indra. She continued pacing, slowly feeling the jumble in her mind start to sort itself out. 

“Use your head for something other than looking pretty, Skai Girl,” muttered Indra hotly as she glared at the blonde. But she turned and bowed her head when she caught Lexa’s glare out of the corner of her eye. 

“What do I have?” she muttered to herself, “what do I have?” She hesitated for a moment, looking idly at the ax and then her blades on the ground. She threw the ax to the ground and picked up the blades. She stared at them for a minute, critically eyeing the straight edges, the little nicks. 

“I have speed. I am faster than him, more flexible,” she nodded resolutely. “I have two blades to his ax. I can keep the second blade in my right sleeve, and use it when needed.” She nodded again, and then turned towards Fen Dal. “I need to get to my feet quicker, and I need to strike even as I am rising to my feet.” 

Fen Dal nodded, ignoring the burst of pride when her student understood what she was trying to teach her. 

“Ok. I get it.” She took deep breath, and stared evenly at Fen Dal, swallowing her pride. “I’m sorry, Fen Dal. You were right. I disrespected you as my teacher. I have been an unwilling student, but I will try harder.” She bowed her head towards Fen Dal, holding her breath, anxiously waiting. 

Fen Dal had an overwhelming urge to hit the blonde. She was a nuisance, causing her to feel things she had long kept buried. She couldn’t deny the pride she felt blossom in her chest, nor the sense of belonging. This is what she had spent her life training for. Her greatest joy had been those moments when she had taught and molded a young Lexa to be the strong leader she was today. Such feelings were dangerous. 

She grunted at the blonde, “took you long enough. Now. We begin again. You must remember to always tuck your shoulder and roll. Come to your feet and spin, cutting his legs out from under him.” Fen Dal dropped into a crouch, demonstrating for the determined blonde. 

Lexa watched quietly for a few more moments, unsure of how to identify the feeling in her chest as she watched the woman who had once led her armies into battle, who had taught her to hold her breath for long periods of time under water, who had taught her how to restring a bow in less than a few minutes, who had taught her that loving someone was strength. Until it got Costia killed. She wondered if Fen Dal regretted it, regretted how she had turned against Lexa. And the truth was, Lexa couldn’t blame her for it. It was why she hadn’t killed her. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead she had stripped Fen Dal of her title, her clan, her family, her everything; and then buried her far away in a cell too ashamed to admit that maybe Fen Dal had been right. Or at the very least, Fen Dal hadn’t been wrong. 

She turned and walked away, gesturing for Indra to follow. They walked in silence, until Indra finally spoke. 

“What are you going to do with her, once this is over?”

Lexa said nothing, continuing to walk through the woods towards the river, her feet barely marking her passing.

Indra huffed in annoyance, “You should kill her when this is over. Put her out of her misery.” 

Lexa came to an abrupt halt and turned to Indra, her eyes narrowed. “I have already agreed to let her go and live with the Skaikru.” 

Indra nodded slowly, “She is dangerous. She will never forget.” 

Lexa stopped next to the riverbank and gracelessly plopped down. She padded the space next to her and looked up at Indra’s bewildered look. “Come, Indra. Relax a little. As Octavia would say, chill.” She smiled a little when Indra grumbled but carefully sat down next to her, resting her arms on her knees. 

“I am going to have a word with my second about all of the things she is teaching you,” she sniffed in annoyance, but she couldn’t be too angry as she saw her Heda’s face relax a little.

“You are my most trusted general, Indra, but you and I never speak the way I spoke with Anya and Gustus.” Lexa fiddled with a blade of grass, not meeting Indra’s questioning stare. 

“They raised you. It was fitting that you speak with them about…things.” Indra swallowed hard, once again cursing Anya and Gustus for getting themselves killed. “I am…perhaps…not as…” she swallowed hard, “open as they were. But I have always been yours, Heda, for whatever you need of me.” She swallowed hard again, lifting her dagger from her belt. She cut a shallow line across her left palm, reopening the scar from long ago, when she had pledged herself to a child Heda. 

“I have always been yours, Heda. In this life and the next.” She held her bloodied hand out to Lexa, her head bowed, and she felt the intense relief when Lexa grasped her blade, and slit open her old scar, and then grasped Indra’s hand, letting their blood mix. “You are mine,” murmured Lexa, as she slowly released her hand. 

“Speak freely, Indra. I am in need of your guidance.” She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. It was weakness to acknowledge that she needed anything, but she hoped Indra would see it for what it was, a testament to her faith in Indra. 

Indra nodded slowly, taking back the dagger and putting it in its sheath. “You have lived longer than any other Heda. You have achieved what the others were too cowardly to even dream of: peace.” She looked out over the river, closing her eyes briefly at the play of wind across her face. 

“Clarke will win,” she stated calmly. She felt Lexa stiffen beside her. “She will win, because she understands the cost of failure. She fights for more than her people, for more than her own life.” Indra reached out and tapped Lexa on the knee, marveling slightly at her own courage for being so forward with the Heda, but somehow she knew this is what her Heda needed. “She fights for you, for a future with you. And once she wins, I pity you her wrath, if you refuse her,” she finished dryly. 

Lexa chuckled, relaxing slightly. She saw Indra’s shoulders shake once from the corner of her eye. It was rarely seen, but even Indra had a sense of humor. 

“And Fen Dal…?” Lexa let her voice trail off, not wanting it to sound like a question, but knowing it did. 

“You should keep your promise to her. She is dangerous, but…” and Indra hesitated for a moment, mulling it over in her mind, recalling the strange gleam in Fen Dal’s eyes when Clarke had finally understood what she was trying to teach her. She cast her mind back, years ago, remembering the few times she had seen Fen Dal spar with Heda. Her eyes widened in realization. 

“Fen Dal is a teacher, a mentor,” she murmured. She felt Lexa nod her head. “This is where she is her strongest. Yes, let her teach the Skaikru how to fight, how to lead.” She nodded her head again, strangely eager at the thought. “This will give her purpose, Heda. This will give her worth.” 

Lexa nodded quietly. “I will recommend to Kane that she be given a position as the head guard to train their soldiers.” She was pleased that Indra had reached the same conclusion she had. She was not wrong to trust Indra’s counsel, to open the doors to her relationship with her. She would never replace Gustus or Anya, but she could become her most trusted ally, perhaps…even her mentor.

“You should send Peregrine with her,” Indra suddenly blurted out.

Lexa coughed hard, so startled by what Indra had said. She turned and looked at her general in exasperation, noting that even Indra seemed surprised by what she had said.

“What do you mean?”

Indra licked her lips, her eyes flicking out over the water. She rubbed her forehead before continuing, “You were probably too busy to notice, but Peregrine used to tag after Costia. Not because of Costia,” she laughed as she felt Lexa stiffen, noting it for the old jealousy that it was. “No, but because of Fen Dal. She looked up to Fen Dal, was quite enamored with her. And had she been older…well, perhaps she would have turned Fen Dal’s eye.” 

Lexa started out over the water watching ducks squabble in the reeds. Peregrine? Really? “Do you think Peregrine would go?” 

“Sha, Heda. Peregrine has always been interested in the Skaikru. She could teach them how better to make clothes and furs for themselves. She is…” Indra’s voice trailed off as she contemplated it for a moment, “she is strong, Heda. Very strong, but there is a gentleness to her…I’m surprised she isn’t a Fisa.” 

Lexa snorted briefly remembering how the golden-eyed girl had defied her, had put her in her place, had shamed her, and opened her eyes. “Sha, Indra. She is afraid of nothing. She might be just what Fen Dal needs. But I will not force her to go.” 

Indra nodded and returned her gaze to the peaceful river before them. She smiled slightly at the breeze that frolicked through the grass, the ducks cheeping in the reeds. Occasionally the water would break as a fish jumped up to catch the plentiful bugs that skated across the surface. Despite the peace and tranquility, Indra and Lexa both knew the monsters that lurked beneath the surface, buried in the dark mud. 

********************************

Clarke groaned as she climbed out of the bathtub. Her muscles screamed at her, and she glared at the fresh bruises marring her skin. She had spent the entire day training with Fen Dal and Mordecai, practicing falling and getting back up. She had been so absorbed in her training that she had missed her meeting with her mum, and she knew she would be here soon. She just hoped she brought food with her. She dried as quickly as possible and pulled loose pants and a shirt on as she heard someone moving about in the outer room. 

“Clarke? Are you in here?”

Clarke pushed through the tent flaps smiling at her mum, immensely relieved that she was holding food in her arms along with what looked like books. She raised a quizzical eyebrow at her mother as she quickly helped her set the food on the table. 

“What is all this?” She grabbed a piece of hard bread and shoved it in her mouth, moaning a little. Her mother just chuckled and shook her head, watching her daughter shove food into her mouth, while hunched over her plate. 

“Doesn’t Lexa feed you?” She chuckled again, grabbing a piece of bread and cheese for herself before her daughter inhaled it all.

“Yes,” mumbled Clarke around her mouthful of food, blushing slightly at her bad manners. She grabbed a mug of water and took several gulps before putting it back on the table with a thud. She sat up straighter and shrugged a little, “Sorry, I haven’t eaten since this morning. Training with Fen Dal tends to work up the appetite.” 

“Ah yes, the mysterious Fen Dal.” Abby shook her head a little, but Clarke didn’t rise to the bait, so she didn’t push. 

“What are the books for?” Clarke gestured with her free hand towards the books, her other hand grasping a small skewer of meat firmly. 

Abby shook her head again, chuckling as she reached out with her thumb, and wiped away the juices running down her daughter’s chin. She sucked the juice off her thumb smiling at her daughter who shrugged again and grinned unrepentantly around a mouthful of food. 

It reminded her of other meals long ago with Jake, how Clarke had stuffed food in her little face, her cheeks puffing out like the squirrels from the picture book. She and Jake had laughed, and that small cherub face had laughed unrepentantly along with them, even as Abby had tried to scold her for her bad manners. And after Jake…well, after Jake, she didn’t think she would ever see the light burning in her daughter’s eyes again. But here it was again. The same light burning in her daughter’s blue eyes, the laughter spilling from her mouth, along with bits of food, as she puffed out her cheeks like the squirrels. She smiled and reached up and caressed her daughter’s cheek, her heart aching with how much she loved her. She wondered idly, if Clarke had found any squirrels here on the ground. If they actually did stuff their cheeks full of food, and did they look as silly as her daughter when she did it? Perhaps when this was all done, she and Clarke could go look for the squirrels. She blinked back tears and turned her gaze back to the books fumbling with them as she tried to open them to the pages she sought. 

Abby still when she felt the strong, slightly rough palm cover her suddenly shaking hands. She desperately clutched at the fingers, trying to maintain her resolve. She looked brought the hand up to her lips and kissed the bruised knuckles, still not looking at her child. She let go of her hand, even though it pained her. She opened the books and finally turned to Clarke. 

“We are going to study anatomy,” she said simply. She watched in amusement as Clarke coughed hard, trying to swallow the food in her throat. 

“I already know anatomy, mum. I know how the human body works.” 

“Yes, I know.” She tapped Clarke’s arm lightly with her fingers. “You know how the human body moves and flows, how it works, how it lives.” She stared hard into Clarke’s eyes, “I’m going to teach you how it dies. I am going to teach you how to kill the human body.” 

Clarke’s mouth dropped open, and words completely escaped her for a moment. Of all the things she had expected, this had not been it. She swallowed hard, her throat tight. “I know how to kill, mum.” She looked away, her fingers wrapping themselves into fists. She felt her mum’s fingers glide across her hard fists. 

“No, you know how to do mass destruction. Have you ever looked into your enemies eyes and killed him?”

Clarke swallowed hard, refusing to meet her mother’s earnest gaze. “Once,” she muttered, remembering the grounder whose throat she had slit when Anya had captured her and Finn. 

Abby stared at her daughter’s bowed head, knowing now was not the time to question her. She cupped her daughter’s chin, forcing wet, blue eyes to meet her own. 

“I am going to teach you how to kill as quickly as humanly possible with the smallest of weapons. With any weapon.” She stared at Clarke for a moment, her dark eyes searching blue. Once satisfied with what she saw, she nodded and pulled the books closer showing them to Clarke. 

The hours slipped by with their heads bent over diagrams and sketches as they reviewed the quickest and easiest way to kill a human, to kill Bardou.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I think one more chapter after this and then on with the Trial. That could change. I have been taking notes for the trial and writing parts of it already. It will most likely be three chapters, and each will probably be longer than my normal length of 3,500-4,000 words. If it goes the way I think, I might end up writing the three chapters and first and then posting them, rather than breaking them up. Haven't decided yet.
> 
> So thoughts?


	35. When Stars Were Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important Author's Notes before the chapter!! Please read!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ok…so first of all. This isn’t my best chapter. I had some problems with it, and a lot of angst in my life lately, so I’m behind. I wanted a sweet Clexa moment, and some more Clarke/Fen Dal and Fen Dal/Mordecai moments. The chapter feels a bit awkward, but I just couldn’t get it right. Sorry. 
> 
> A/N: K…remember how I said this was going to be done by Thanksgiving? Yeah…I’m laughing about that too. I’m now aiming for the end of December. So here’s the deal. There won’t be an update for a few weeks, not because I’m going on hiatus, but because I want to write the next 3 chapters before posting them. Once they are done, they will all be posted either the same day, or 1 each day. The trial starts tomorrow! Who’s excited? Oh and I’m in the process of writing a few one-shots. Those will be posted while I’m writing the next three chapters. 
> 
> A/N: Lastly, this is important. So many of you have stuck with this from day one, messaging me, leaving me comments and review, chilling with me on Tumblr and Kik and Twitter etc. You have all been so amazing, I wanted to thank you. So I thought I could just list your names in a thank you in an author’s note, but that’s hella boring! So….guess what that means…cameos!!!!! 
> 
> Many of you will be getting cameos throughout the next chapters (most will be in the Polis chapters). Some of you, I talk to pretty regularly, so your character roles will be bigger, ‘cuz I know more shit about you. Some of you, I know nothing but your screen names and that you regularly leave me reviews and you’re awesome. Your roles might be smaller, and your character’s names and occupations will be derived from your screen names. If you aren’t sure if you are getting a cameo, but want one. Tell me in the comments/review. Tell me something about yourself, so I can flesh out your character. The very first one of you makes an appearance in this chapter, well you are referred to, and then your character will show up in Polis. Ok that’s it. On with the chapter!!

It was the early hours of the morning, or maybe it was the late hours of the night; when she heard the soft footsteps in her tent, hesitantly making their way to where she lay on her bed of furs. She slid her hand under her pillow, gripping the dagger that lay there. She tried to keep her breathing even and deep as if she were still asleep, but she could hear her heart pounding in her ears and she was sure the intruder could also. She imperceptibly tightened her muscles, readying herself to spring from the bed when she heard the quiet chuckle.

“It is just me, Klark.”

And Clarke immediately felt her muscles loosen of their own accord and heart rate steady. She loosened her grip on her dagger and opened her eyes, peering into the darkness. She could barely make out the shadow standing a few feet from her bed.

“Just you? There is nothing _just_ about you, Leska,” she murmured as she stretched in the bed. She sat up, preparing to swing her legs over the side of the bed, when she realized why she could see Lexa. She was…glowing. Her eyebrows shot up, when she noticed the faintest light emanating from the edges of the coat Lexa wore. It cast just enough of a glow for her to see her shape, although she looked slightly disproportionate.

“Leska, you are glowing.”

“Sha, Klark. You are perceptive.”

Clarke rolled her eyes at the amused tone, although it was lost on Lexa in the darkness. “And why are you glowing?” She sat up, grabbing a few furs and tossing them to the floor. She slid off the bed and onto the furs, arranging them into a little nest. She reached up and tugged at Lexa’s pants, making her desires clear.

Lexa chuckled as she set her satchel down and then sat in the nest of furs and carefully pulled a jar out from under coat. It was made out of bubbled glass and the top was crudely covered with rawhide with tiny holes in it, but inside were dozens of flying bugs that lit up the space around them in varying shades of blues, greens, and yellow.

Lexa carefully set the jar down, and Clarke carefully ran her fingers over the cool glass, watching as the flying insects continued to buzz around and around. She chuckled and looked up smiling at Lexa.

“It is so beautiful, Leska. How did I never know about these?”

“Wait, Klark, it’s not finished,” and Lexa and then pulled a folded square of rawhide from her coat. It had larger holes carefully cut into it. She next pulled her satchel to her, and dug around until she triumphantly pulled out a rusted piece of iron.

It was…well Clarke wasn’t sure what it was actually as she eyed it. It was formed into a ring with four little, iron rods attached to the ring in an upward, slanted position. Whatever it was, it was old, judging by the crumbling rust along its surface. She watched as Lexa carefully picked up the jar and shook it just a little causing the insects to swarm and the lights to brighten. She set the ring on the ground and then carefully set the jar inside the ring. She grabbed the piece of rawhide and stretched it over the jar and frame, carefully tying it off at the bottom. It was hideous, and Clarke didn’t know what to make of it until Leska put her hand on her arm and pointed upward.

“Look, Klark.”

And Clarke looked up and gasped at the swirling myriads of color dancing across her ceiling. She felt the tears flood her eyes as she turned to Lexa, seeing the same bursts of color splashed across her skin and her own.

“The stars. You gave me the stars,” and her voice broke, and she couldn’t stop the tears that flooded down her cheeks, for she had never told Lexa that there were nights when she looked to the heavens, yearning to be closer to the stars. The stars had been her first home. But the cold emptiness of space, filled with dying stars was no match for the blue, green, and yellow stars that swirled around them, caressing their skin.

Home was no longer the darkness of space and artificial lights of a dying hulk of metal. Home was here in a tent with dozens of stars dancing across the warm, tanned skin of a warrior of the earth. Home was Lexa. She leaned forward, grasping Lexa’s face in her palms and pressed her lips to hers, tasting the salt on both their lips.

Clarke gave a strangled laugh, her nerves buzzing in anticipation, and she pressed her mouth to Lexa’s over and over again, her tongue demanding entrance past the plump lips; and she never ever wanted to let the older girl go. She reluctantly pulled back, their foreheads touching, their arms gripping each other, and felt it swell in her chest, slamming against the cage of her teeth, but she didn’t quite know how to say it. It seemed so benign in English, and even in Trigedesleng, it didn’t seem quite like it fit. So she wrapped her arms tightly around the brunette, and with her lips caressing a delicate ear she whispered, “I will always hold you in my heart, Leska. Always.” And she felt the gasp against her cheek, and felt the warm salt trickle down the other girl’s flushed skin; and it was enough.

*******************************

Night eventually gave up its herald to the dawn, and the two entwined figures slowly stretched and untangled themselves from within their nests of fur. The camp was starting to waken, and people were moving about in the cold morning, stoking the fires, changing the guard rotation.

Clarke snuggled her face deeper into Lexa’s neck, not wanting to get up. Tomorrow the trial would start, and she didn’t know if she could win; but she was no longer worried for herself. No, her worry was for the girl who held her close to her chest; and Clarke ached with not knowing what would happen to her if she were to fall.

“You are strong, Klark kom Trikru, you will win the day tomorrow.” Lexa wrapped her arms tighter around the sleepy blonde, knowing she was awake and worrying like she tended to do.

“Leska if I don’t…I mean…”

And Lexa interrupted her, pressing her mouth hard to Clarke’s lips, swallowing her dying words; refusing to let her speak them. “No, Klark. You can do this. You will do this.” She sat up, pulling the blonde with her, running her hands through her hair. She held her tight, refusing to show her fear. She would be strong for them both.

Clarke sighed, nodding against Lexa’s chest. Perhaps it was best to not speak of it, but she knew she would have to speak to Raven and Octavia. Perhaps even to Indra. She would make sure that Lexa would endure, that she wouldn’t lose her way. That she wouldn’t shut everyone out. She needed to know that Lexa would _live_ , not just survive.

Lexa carefully separated from the blonde, reaching for her satchel and rummaging around until she pulled out a long package, tied in up in soft rawhide. She held it out to Clarke. “I had something made for you, but be very, very careful. Do not cut yourself,” she whispered.

Clarke glanced hesitantly at the Lexa, noting the solemnity in the dark eyes. She nodded, and pulled at the string tying it together. She gasped when she folded back the edges of the rawhide. Inside lay two perfectly crafted daggers. She gently traced the long blue of the blades, noting the finely honed edges. The grips were simple and elegant, and yet they fit her hands perfectly when she picked them up. She twirled them, hefting them in her hands, grinning at the perfect balance. She stared at the end of the grips, noting the imbedded carvings that had been inlaid with silver. Stars in an onyx sky. And as she stared at the grips, she realized that they were actually crafted into the shape of a tree stretching towards the stars.

She looked up at Lexa, overwhelmed by the gift. Daggers this beautifully balanced couldn’t have been cheap, and it was obvious they had been designed especially for her. Lexa smiled and pulled out the sheathes, “These are tied to the inside of your arms. They are actually spring loaded, so the blades will easily drop into your palms, and the sheathes can be covered by your jacket.

“Thank you, Leska. These are beautiful. You had them made for me?”

“Sha, I had them made by the First Master of the Blades in Polis. She is young, but incredibly gifted,” Lexa chuckled, “actually her name is Raven, just like your Raven. Raven, First Master of the Blades. Most just call her Raven Blade.”

“I wish I could thank her. These are beautiful.”

“You will. When we leave for Polis in a few days. Her forge and shop are there. I think you will like her.”

“Klark.”

Clarke looked up from admiring the daggers, surprised at the solemn tone of voice. She glanced curiously at Lexa.

“Klark, you must be very careful with these blades.” She took a deep breath and continued, “The blades were forged in poison. A small cut will make you sick, but an actual wound would kill you.” She eyed Clarke knowingly when the realization dawned on her face.

“Is that allowed, Leska? To have them dipped in poison?”

“Sha. Well, it is…what would you say…um…a detail?” Lexa hesitated trying to find the right word.

“Technicality,” murmured Clarke as she absently traced her fingers over the grips of the daggers.

“Sha…a technicality. The Trikru use poison on their blades. Not always, as the poison is hard to come by. But we are one of the few clans to do it, because the poisonous root used specifically for this type of poison grows in our territory. The Boat, River, and Desert Clans have similar poisons, but those poisons tend not to live long on the blade. This poison does.”

Lexa shifted, her arm tightening around Clarke, “Klark, you must strike him quickly. The closer the poison is near the heart, the quicker he will fall and die.”

“They aren’t going to like this, Leska. They will say I cheated.”

“Cheated?” Lexa laughed gruffly. “No one cheats death, Klark. You are allowed to use the poison. It is Trikru tradition, and you are Trikru.” She pressed her lips to Clarke’s forehead. “Do not worry about the clans, if any protest, I will deal with them,” she murmured. What she didn’t tell Clarke was she was going to have to deal with them anyway. She hadn’t been able to quell the murmurings and muttered accusations that she was weak, and no longer fit to lead. Kellan had kept her apprised of the rumblings, and she knew that tomorrow, no matter the outcome of the trial, she would have to face challengers.

She was ready.

And now it was time to train. Both of them.

******************************

“Why do you hate Lexa?”

Fen Dal jerked her head up sharply from the diagrams she was going over to look at the blonde with the solemn blue eyes. She simply grunted at her and turned her attention back to the diagrams from Abby. Fen Dal was impressed with the knowledge of the Skai people. As a warrior, she had learned the places to cut that would cause an enemy to bleed faster simply by fighting in wars, but she hadn’t really understood how it all worked. She was intrigued by the circulatory system, and it made sense to her when she thought about the soaked fields and red streams on the battle fields.

“Fen Dal.” Clarke stared hard at the warrior, who continued to ignore her. She let her gaze run over the strong, muscled arms with the hideous scars, up to the strong jaw and chiseled cheek bones. She smiled a little at the wild mane of dark hair that fell just to her shoulders. It was uneven, and had obviously only been cut with blunt blades. But it was clean.

She stood up and walked around to stand in back of the warrior, noting how her fists clenched and her back stiffened. She felt Mordecai move up near her, ready to intervene at a moment’s notice.

“Fen Dal, can I cut your hair for you?”

Fen Dal couldn’t help the surprise that graced her face as she abruptly turned to face Clarke who simply smiled at her. She stared at her, looking for any sign of deception or manipulation. Truth be told, she didn’t like how her hair fell in her face; but she had never been particularly good at braiding her own hair. In the times before, she rarely ever braided her own hair. It hadn’t been necessary. Costia had always braided it, and even Lexa had braided it.

She searched Clarke’s face for a moment, finding no guile, so she shrugged casually, as if it made no difference to her. Yet, she stiffened slightly once Clarke returned with a comb and shears. Clarke gently pushed her down into a chair, and she tried to relax as Clarke carefully started to comb through the hair, occasionally wetting the hair to make it easier. Fen Dal slowly started to relax, and while she wasn’t going to admit it; it felt nice to have someone do something for her again.

Clarke carefully untangled the snarls and then slowly cut the hair, trying to even it up as much as possible. She was reluctant to cut too much, as she figured Fen Dal would want to braid it later. She ended up taking only a couple of inches, so her dark hair skimmed the top of her shoulders. She eyed the hair expectantly, wondering how she should braid it. She had hoped she would be able to imagine it, but so far she couldn’t really think of how to braid it in typical grounder fashion.

She combed through the hair again, pulling it tight into her fist. She started braiding a French braid, but it was lumpy, and she quickly undid it, combing through it again. She sighed, “Fen Dal, I’m sorry, but I don’t really know how to braid hair in anything but a French braid, and you don’t seem like the French braid type. Perhaps you should braid it?”

Fen Dal shook her head lightly, gruffly replying; “No, it is fine,” she swallowed hard not wanting to show that she was grateful for what she had done for her, but she supposed the girl deserved a thank you of some sort. “Thank you,” she muttered gruffly as she stood up and stretched her tired muscles.

Clarke chuckled under her breath and tapped Fen Dal’s shoulder, “Was that really so hard? Despite the fact that you sounded anything but grateful.” She carefully put the items away and turned back to watch as Fen Dal kept brushing her hair back and tucking it behind her ears.

She was startled though when she heard a loud huff and Mordecai indicated the chair again. “Sit. I will braid it.” She stared challengingly at Fen Dal, arching one eyebrow, daring her to refuse.

Fen Dal ground her teeth together. She didn’t want to turn her back on Mordecai, but she also didn’t want to seem weak if she backed down. She lifted her chin and glared hard at Mordecai, who seemed entirely unfazed. She plunked herself down on the edge of the seat, her thigh muscles taught, ready to spring from the chair if need be.

Mordecai hid her smile and carefully ran her fingers through the thick hair. She ignored the smooth texture of the dark hair, ignored how it spilled through her fingers like water, ignored the tightening in her belly as she leaned forward, lightly breathing in the smell of sweat, earth, and aged wood.

She carefully twisted the hair and began braiding along the sides. She didn’t need to think much about how to do it, the pattern was familiar. It was a simple warrior’s braids, and she tied off the braids with leather strips from her own hair. She let the braids fall down Fen Dal’s neck, and stepped back critically examining the work she’d done. She nodded in satisfaction. The braids looked good on Fen Dal, not quite the same braids that she had once worn, but they were still the braids of a warrior and that was what counted.

Fen Dal gingerly ran her fingers down the braids. Her fingers fluttered to a stop when she realized that Mordecai had given her a warrior’s braids, but she had tied them off in the manner worn by generals, although still not quite how she had worn them before. She turned dark eyes up to meet stormy gray, searching for something to explain what Mordecai had done. More importantly, why had Mordecai defied Heda? Because while Lexa probably hadn’t concerned herself once in thinking about Fen Dal’s braids, or lack of braids, she was sure to notice the braids now. And while she might not have expressly forbidden the braids, it was understood that as Natrona, she was not to wear warrior’s braids, especially braids tied off like a generals.

Mordecai watched as the realization had dawned on Fen Dal’s face. She hadn’t intended to tie off the braids in the manner she had, but her fingers had simply done it. She scowled briefly and then simply nodded. It was fitting. Fen Dal was a great warrior, and she was preparing the Skai Heda for her greatest battle. Fen Dal deserved to wear the braids.

Clarke stared at them both curiously, realizing something important had happened; but not fully understanding what had passed. She made a mental note to speak with Octavia about the importance of the braids.

“Well, I suppose we should get back to it?” She turned towards Mordecai, “Mordecai, could you please go get us some food? I think we will be here for quite some time still.” She frowned at the thought.

Mordecai looked hesitantly at Clarke, unsure if she should leave her alone with Fen Dal. She turned her hard gaze towards Fen Dal who scoffed, “I’m not going to hurt her, Mordecai.” She smirked, “At least not more than necessary.”

Mordecai barely refrained from rolling her eyes, and nodded sharply at Clarke, before turning and leaving the tent.

Fen Dal returned her attention to the diagrams, gesturing for Clarke to come closer so she could point something out to her. Clarke stood at her shoulder, but her attention wasn’t on the diagrams. She wanted answers, “Why do you hate Lexa?”

Fen Dal growled low in her chest. Did the girl never give up? She decided to ignore her, but when she felt Clarke brush against her and repeat her question again, and then again, and then again; Fen Dal realized that the girl was too stubborn for her own good.

She straightened up glaring hard at Clarke, “That is between Lexa and I, and if she hasn’t told you, then she obviously doesn’t want you to know.”

“Did you know Lexa kept a journal?”

Fen Dal blinked hard. She had not expected this abrupt change in conversation, and she narrowed her eyes at the blonde, wondering what she was playing at.

“I think you were in the journal once. There are entries that have been scratched out. Some entries just have parts scratched out.” Clarke tapped her chin with her fingers, gazing thoughtfully at Fen Dal, who had started to look uncomfortable. “Yes, I think you were once so important to her, that you were in her journal. But she scratched you out of it, just like she scratched you out of her life.” She stared pointedly at Fen Dal’s scarred arms, where once her clan tattoos had been. She didn’t need to say what else Lexa had scratched out of Fen Dal.

Clarke was rewarded with a flicker in the cold, dark, violet eyes that continued to stare hard at her. “What I can’t figure out it what you meant to her. She obviously loved you, but not the way she loved Costia.” And realization dawned on Clarke when she saw the slightest flinch from Fen Dal when she said Costia’s name.

“So that’s it,” she muttered as she looked away from Fen Dal for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “You both loved Costia,” she muttered sadly.

“No, not like that,” whispered Fen Dal, her voice cracking slightly. She clenched her hands into fists. “She was my sister. I raised her.”

Clarke was startled, but it suddenly made sense. So much sense. “It was always you and Costia, and Lexa. Wasn’t it?” She continued on, not waiting for an acknowledgement from Fen Dal. “You were friends, family even,” she breathed out quietly, “You even refer to her as Lexa. No one else does but me. “And when the Ice Queen took Costia…” Her voice trailed off.

Fen Dal ground her teeth, her fists clenching hard. She relished the feel of her nails digging into her palms, and she felt the cold ache in her chest at the mention of the Ice Queen. “Stop,” she gritted out, the anger sour in her mouth, the pain curdling on her tongue.

Clarke started for a moment at Fen Dal and then nodded slowly. She understood now. “Ok,” she murmured. She turned back to the diagrams, but her eyes were unfocused, and her heart ached for the woman who stood beside her, breathing heavily, obviously trying to rein in her anger.

Fen Dal glared at the blonde’s back, hoping the force of her stare would simply make the irritating girl burst into flame, and then Lexa could finally kill her. She looked down at her hands, surprised to see that they were fists. She slowly unclenched her whitened fingers, staring in confusion at the red rings in her palms. She hadn’t even noticed. She felt first slivers of apprehension. She was usually able to better control herself, but this….this blonde! She infuriated her in ways that she was unaccustomed to.

She shook her head, feeling the weight of the braids slap her neck lightly. She shook out her cramped fingers and inhaled slowly and then exhaled in a trembling rush. She rubbed her temples lightly and then walked closer to the table, standing on the opposite side of the blonde. She stared hard, but couldn’t seem to understand the diagrams anymore. She growled in frustration, fisting her hands on the table and leaning hard on them.

“Have you ever thought about meditating?”

“Shut. Up.”

“Right,” murmured Clarke as she turned her attention back to the diagrams again, deciding that sometimes the better part of valor was a smart and timely retreat.

“I’m going to die tomorrow,” she murmured.

Fen Dal tensed slightly, unsure what to say. She was inclined to agree, but she didn’t think it would help to tell her. She glanced up, her brow furrowed when she realized that the blonde seemed rather calm about her impending death. She straightened a little, watching her carefully. The girl simply tapped her fingers lightly on the parchments, seemingly unconcerned with her own words.

She sighed. “Stop it. It’s irritating.”

“Stop what?” But Clarke still didn’t look at the other woman, instead simply staring at the diagrams that she knew by heart. She knew all of the moves to make, where to cut, how to slash, how to roll and get back up. But she didn’t think it would do any good. And she supposed it was fitting. She had so much blood on her hands…at some point, you have to pay for what you’ve taken. Blood for blood.

“The tapping. It is irritating. You are irritating,” grumbled Fen Dal. Not entirely sure why she suddenly felt so surly towards the blonde. Anger was a common feeling when she was around the girl, but this was different. The irritation prickled at her skin, and she realized she was more than a little perturbed at the girl had said.

“Oh. Right.” Clarke stopped her mindless tapping, and shuffled the diagrams into a haphazard pile.

“There is no point in studying these any more. I know them. There is nothing left to do, really.” She shrugged, feeling the weariness of the last few months picking at her bones.

“You won’t die,” she muttered dryly as she leaned against the table, resting her hip along the top. She crossed her arms, waiting for the girl to answer her. She wanted to chuckle at the surprised look on her face.

Clarke smiled sadly and then chuckled, “You don’t mean that. You are just trying to make me feel better.”

“Feel better?” snorted Fen Dal. “What exactly is it about me that makes you think I want to make you feel better?” She laughed mirthlessly. She waved her hand carelessly in the air. “I have no desire to coddle you, nor make you feel better.”

Clarke couldn’t help but chuckle. It was true. Fen Dal didn’t believe in doing things the easy way. Her methods of teaching were hard, harsh even. But she had to admit that she had learned much from Fen Dal. “So why don’t you think I will die?”

Fen Dal looked away, feeling a light burn in her chest. She shrugged, hoping the girl would let it drop, but knowing she wouldn’t.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” muttered Clarke as she shoved the diagrams across the table in a sudden fit of irritation.

“You’re too damn stubborn to die.”

She looked up at Fen Dal surprised. “Stubbornness has nothing to do with death, Fen Dal.”

Fen Dal snorted again and turned and faced her, “Oh really? Nothing? What do you think stubbornness is, Clarke?” She slapped her hand down on the table, “It is the will to keep fighting, to not give in or give up. Your stubbornness will aid you well tomorrow.”

“Ok, so I’m stubborn,” Clarke wrinkled her nose a little recalling her mother telling her the same when she was a child. Usually it was accompanied with a roll of her eyes. She smiled a little at the thought, but sobered quickly. She bit her lip.

“I’m not ready to leave her.”

Fen Dal didn’t need to ask who the her was. She knew. As much as she hated Lexa, she knew the girl loved the blonde and the blonde she. She wondered for a moment what Costia would have thought of Clarke. A sad smile twisted her lips at the thought. Somehow she knew that Costia probably would have liked Clarke.

“You’re smart. And you’re quick. Really quick. Quicker and smarter than him.” She grunted and looked hard at Clarke. “You’re a Hon Bedja.”

“I’mma what?”

“Hon Bedja.” Fen Dal gestured in the universal “You know” language, but Clarke still looked at her in confusion.

“No, actually, I don’t know. What is a Hon Bedja?”

“Um…” Fen Dal gestured lamely in the air, not entirely sure how to describe it. “It’s a small animal. Well not too small. It’s very stubborn and can be vicious.” She laughed, “You do not want to walk through its territory. It will attack you or stalk you for miles.”

“Stalk me? But you said it was small.” Clarke frowned at Fen Dal, wondering if she was trying to fool her.

“They walk on all fours, have fur. They are black, except for their back and top of their heads. They are kind of white up there.” Fen Dal chuckled again, “Actually they are kind of cute in a ‘I’m going to claw out your eyes and heart’ kind of way.” She laughed again and gestured at Clarke, “You aren’t as cute as the Hon Bedja though.”

“Fuck. You.”

And Fen Dal laughed hard this time. She had heard the phrase from a number of warriors, and had been surprised by what it meant. Apparently it was a phrase that the Skaikru had taught the Trikru, and it was quite popular.

Clarke just glared at the laughing woman, but she couldn’t stay angry, because she was laughing. Fen Dal was laughing hard, her eyes watering in merriment, her shoulders heaving. Clarke laughed too. She really didn’t have many other choices, and having Fen Dal laughing at her was well worth the embarrassment. Fen Dal was laughing, and Clarke figured it to be some kind of miracle. And she knew, without the words ever being uttered, that Fen Dal hadn’t laughed in years, probably hadn’t felt joy in far longer than she ever wanted to count.

So they both bent over laughing hard, their chests heaving with the effort, their cheeks red, their eyes sparkling. And this is how Mordecai found them. And they were so busy laughing that they barely acknowledged the slightly bewildered Mordecai who shuffled into the room, her eyes darting worriedly between the two.

She set the food on the table, staring questioningly at Clarke, who just waved her off laughing; so she turned her dark eyes to Fen Dal who simply pointed at Clarke and said, “Hon Bedja.” She nodded, realization slowly dawning. It fit the blonde perfectly. She shook her head in faux irritation and turned away from them both, busying herself in setting out her daggers so she could sharpen them. But what neither of them saw was the small smile that twitched at the corners of Mordecai’s mouth. Nor did they see the soft gleam in her dark eyes.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow it would all begin, and she had much to prepare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the first cameo was....RavenBlade1 from FF.Net. I think you've reviewed every single chapter or almost every single one. You've been awesome. Thank you!


	36. To my Parisian and French readers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple message

My dear French and Parisian readers, fellow authors, and friends. 

My thoughts and prayers are with you in these dark hours and in the days and weeks to come. 

May you find peace, strength, and healing. You are strong. You are not alone, and you are not forgotten.

Love,

Bae


	37. Author's Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read. Good stuff coming.

Hey all!

Just to let you know, I am working on TPWID. it has been a bit of a struggle lately. I am currently doing therapy for my wrist so writing is a little harder for me right now. I also had to put my dog of 9 years down a couple weeks ago. It has been heart-break ing for me, so I'm a bit behind. 

BUT THIS HAS NOT BEEN ABANDONED!! :) and... stay tuned for a sneak peek, which I'm aiming for posting this weekend. 

Cheers!  
-Bae.


	38. Sneak Peek!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sneak Peek of the next chapter that starts with the Trial. This is still a rough draft, and it might have changed a bit in the final chapter. It's a long sneek peek. Important stuff in author's notes so please read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Here is the Sneek Peek, guys! It's kind of long, but it's a long chapter.
> 
> Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your kind words on my last update. I appreciate your thoughts and concerns. I do have Tumblr message and KIK if anyone ever wants to chat. My Tumblr is Bae-in-Maine. And my KIK is Bae_Mes. Feel free to message me if you want. 
> 
> Author's Note: So my original plan was to have these 3 chapters done by Christmas and post them one right after another. They aren't all going to be done. So I'm thinking of posting each chapter when it is finished. The first chapter, and possibly the 2nd will be done by Christmas. Do you want me to post them when they are done, or wait til after Christmas and post all 3 at once? I'm leaning towards posting as they are finished, since I'm behind, but want to know what you think. Please let me know in the comments or on Tumblr or Twitter or KIK or something. Thank you!

Her vision narrowed until all she could see was the smirking face in front of her. Numerous feet separated them, but she could clearly see her sparking eyes, the curl of her lips, the way she held her head. It was all too familiar, and she felt her heart slam against her ribs, and the once-tempered rage begin to build. She should have known. She should have seen this betrayal coming. She had seen the signs, heard the murmurings, but she had ignored them all in favor of losing herself in a warm, willing body. But how wrong she had been.

She vaguely heard shouting, dozens of angry and worried voices rising harshly in the morning air. Her ears twitched at the sound of stamping of feet in cadence and hard leather shields being thumped against armored chests. She could hear the scrape of steel, and she was sure she heard arrows being notched.

She turned her head minutely, the wretched screams finally reaching her ears, and she saw Fen Dal on the ground being held down by Mordecai. Her screams were incomprehensible, and she furrowed her brow, wondering what she was saying, not that it even mattered anymore. This was how it was going to end, and she should have known better than to believe that life could be about more than just surviving.

But her eyes met angry violet, and she marveled at how red Fen Dal’s face was, the rage clearly simmering just under the surface of her skin. She imagined that at any moment, Fen Dal’s face would begin to crack and her rage would finally seep out like black puss. She wanted to laugh at the irony, except it wasn’t so much irony, as tragedy.

And it only took a few seconds, for Fen Dal to prove why she had been her greatest warrior, as she threw off Mordecai and scrambled to her knees. Lexa expected her to rise, to throw herself into the fray, to undo all that she had bled for over the years, but instead she lifted her shaking fists in supplication to Lexa, the angry tears streaking through the dirt on her face, her muscles rippling under her skin.

And Lexa could feel the boiling rage, a living beast that was prowling waiting for the word from its master. She started curiously at this…this thing…that begged and pleaded, pounding stoned fists into the dirt. She saw the madness swirling in her dark eyes, and she wondered what the point was of holding her back anymore. This tragedy of flesh and bone on her knees was no longer her greatest general, her most trusted friend, her family. She had been reduced to this sniveling mess of burning flesh.

And she lifted her hand to give her that final permission, to release her from her pain, but she stayed her hand at the last moment…

“No.”

It wasn’t particularly loud, but it was clear and resolute, and Lexa hesitated, her eyes widening a fraction when she realized just who had dared to defy her. Was there no more loyalty? Were they all turning against her? Perhaps this was what she deserved.

“No, Heda. Beja. Give her to me,” and perhaps she shouldn’t have been so damn surprised by the tall warrior who had managed to scramble to her feet and stood directly behind Fen Dal gripping her by her neck. And despite everything, she couldn’t help the twinge of amusement, that out of everyone she could have had; quiet, unassuming, loyal Mordecai had chosen the warrior touched by madness. So instead she nodded.

Mordecai grabbed Fen Dal more securely by the back of the neck, knowing that the other woman didn’t even feel her hands upon her, couldn’t comprehend what was about to happen. Her intense relief at Heda’s nod was replaced with the sad resignation that she didn’t know if she could save Fen Dal. Perhaps it would be better to just let her go, to end her fight for her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and she felt the muscles underneath her hand stiffen briefly and then sag as the wild ramblings stopped. But Mordecai drew her hand back and slammed the butt of her dagger into the side of her head, but she caught her and in her arms and held her for just a brief moment before laying her gently in the dust. And then she straightened, knowing the worst was yet to come, and she stood ready, with a heavy heart.

It had been so brief, happening in moments, and Lexa tore her gaze from Fen Dal to stare again into the face she had seen so many times in her dreams. And her fingers tightened on the arms of her throne when she heard the all too familiar, warm voice.

“Really, Lexa? Did you really expect anything different? Did you think I would just let it go?” The voice was so soft, so earnest, and Lexa’s lips twisted into a harsh smile at the way her blue eyes gleamed.

She felt the bitter bile rise and coat her tongue, and she barely managed to hold it back. She couldn’t be weak, she couldn’t afford to show just how wrecked she truly was. “No, but I didn’t think you would be such a branwada as to risk your people, to risk everything on this foolish need for retribution.”

She briefly glanced around, noting the warriors all on edge, their weapons in their hands ready to pounce, to spill each other’s blood. The Skaikru looked angry and worried, and she wondered if they had known or ever suspected that this could happen. Her closest allies stood at the ready, but it didn’t warm her heart. Instead she felt the burden of their lives resting upon her shoulders. She was going to burn them all.

The warriors of Ice and Blood smirked, and the Wolves prowled restlessly behind them, ready to do their masters bidding. And she knew with just one word, they would all annihilate each other. And maybe it was time to allow it, to concede that her coalition had fractured beyond repair. That this bloodshed would be her legacy, and maybe from the ashes a new world would be born.

She glanced towards Indra. She wasn’t her greatest warrior, but she was her most loyal soldier, her most trusted general. Indra who never questioned, but followed and fought and bled. She was ready to do her bidding. Her eyes flitted to the young eagle who stood behind Indra. Peregrine’s face was white, and she clutched her hands to her chest, but her eyes…her eyes no longer saw this world, and Lexa wondered what visions she was seeing. War? Death? Betrayal? Fire?

“Indra.”

And it was all that was necessary and Indra stepped forward and drew her sword. She imagined that she could hear the slide of each nick of metal against her worn scabbard. It was the longest draw of her life, and she knew what was coming next. She had heard the breaking in her Heda’s voice, had heard the demons roar. She looked at the Elder Maestra, who was simply too calm, too composed, and her chest burned with hate. Because this was how Heda’s rule would end, and she couldn’t help but believe that this meddling Elder Maestra had always known.

She pointed her sword at the Elder and hissed, “You! You knew. You saw this and said nothing!” The tip of her sword wavered as she stepped in front of Heda, her dark eyes searing into the Elder Maestra’s, who barely managed to not tremble under the scouring of her gaze.

“I see all possibilities, Indra. This was only one. There is more to come.”

“Lies! You speak with a forked tongue, in riddles and games!” She stalked closer, step by step, the crunch of dust breaking underneath her feet. “No, more!” But she hesitated when she saw the sadness flicker in the Elder Maestra’s eyes.

“It is time to choose, Indra.” And Indra felt her heart drop, and a gaping hollow open inside her chest. All it would take was one word, one move, and the ground would run red with blood. One whisper, and this inevitable war would begin. But it would be the last war, because they would destroy each other right here, in this clearing. No one would be spared.

She closed her eyes in resignation and remembered all those years ago when her love had held her in the dark of winter. He had whispered in her ear telling her that the day would come when she would have to defy Heda, would have to choose differently. She remembered his words so clearly.

_“Someday, you will have to choose, Indy, between Heda and what is best for your people. When the time comes, just make sure that it is a choice worth dying for, worth sacrificing everything for. Because the cost will be far greater than you can imagine that you could ever pay. Make sure it is worth dying for, Indy._

She waited for the command she knew was coming. The command that would damn them all, that would lead to all-out war. And she alone heard it in the wreckage and devastation of her Heda.

“Frag em op.”

She turned to fully face the woman with the cold blue eyes. She cursed the day she had ever laid eyes upon her. Her hand tightened around the handle of her sword, and her war cry burst from her lips and she pivoted sharply. She was turning…turning….and her sword was outstretched and arced with deadly precision. She felt the moment the tip cut into the flesh, and it reverberated up her arm. And she saw the thin streams of blood rip through the delicate skin in a wide, splashing arc. She felt the hot blood hit her face and sear her down to the bone.

And the look of surprise on Lexa’s face was forever seared in her memory, when the head toppled from the shoulders and felt to the dirt with a wet thump.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...so...who hates me now? *Evil chuckle. Just remember what I promised you from day 1. ;)


	39. The Trial: Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Phase 1 of the Trial. Very Lexa and OC focused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all of you! I wish you peace, love, and joy, dahlins'. :)
> 
> This is a long chapter, but it is kind of different, because much of it is the build-up to the next chapter. Cameos in this chapter. Names listed at the end in Author's Notes.

**Chapter 34: The Trial: Surprise**

She stood in the middle of her tent, her hands hanging by her sides, breathing in deeply and exhaling gently. Her stomach rumbled lightly, but she was too nervous to eat. Today….it had finally arrived. She had thought she would be ready, prepared to do what was necessary. But she wasn’t. She was the Heda of twelve clans, she had survived countless battles, had laid waste to the enemies at her feet; and yet, here she hid in her tent, cowed and afraid. This was a battle she could not fight, instead she was forced to sit on the sideline and watch her world, her dreams, her suffering take to the ring and fight her most important battle.

She stifled a groan and dropped her face into her cupped hands. She didn’t know what would happen, didn’t know if she would be strong enough to keep herself from starting a war if Clarke fell. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing the Skai Heda, and her eyes burned.

She wondered briefly if Costia would be angry that Lexa would even consider going to war with the Ice Nation for Clarke. Her lips curled into a sad smile. She thought, perhaps, Costia would understand. She had been a child when she had loved Costia, so inexperienced, so desperately clinging to the older girl. She had been frantic to make Costia her own, to be able to say that she was hers. Everything else had been ripped from her, and if she just held on to Costia hard enough, she would always have her. Costia and Fen Dal.

She had been so wrong, and had suffered the pain of a thousand deaths for her arrogance, her stubbornness, her madness in not listening to Gustus and Anya. She could have spared them all so much grief. But she still couldn’t bring herself to regret loving Costia. But she wondered if Costia had ever regretted it. In those last hours, as the Queen tortured her. Did Costia hate Lexa? Rue the day they had ever met? Did she spill what little secrets she possessed of Lexa with bloody lips and maddened eyes, only to still meet her fate at the end of a sword? And if Costia had spilled her secrets, perhaps she did them so she could meet death more quickly. Lexa was well accustomed to the art of torture, and she bit her lip hard at the knowledge of what they had done to her first love. Of what _she_ had done.

She slowly uncurled her fists. It didn’t matter anymore. Costia was gone, her soul free to wander the heavens. And the Queen had bent her knee and offered an insincere supplication. Lexa had seen the hate burn bright in the other woman, and she had reveled in the power she held when she laid the tip of her sword against the other woman’s neck. She had brought the Queen of Ice and Snow to her knees, and she would never let her forget it. She knew the Queen burned at the thought of Heda sitting on the Throne of Trees, the Throne of the Twelve Clans.

She straightened and grasped the sides of her coat, pulling and adjusting so it fell perfectly. But even as she carefully checked herself over once more, her fingers flitting across her sword and daggers, making sure everything was in its place; her thoughts were on another person.

Fen Dal.

She had promised Fen Dal a chance at redemption, and Kane had assured her that she was welcome among the Skaikru. Peregrine would go with her. She pursed her lips in thought. Peregrine. She was all too aware of how Peregrine looked at Fen Dal, with the slightly starry eyed gaze of one who thinks she is in love. Peregrine was wise beyond her years. Fierce and loyal to her people. But she had a gentle touch, a mesmerizing manner about her. She had an innate ability to see the pain in people and to touch it and help heal it. Wise thought she was, Lexa could still see the shreds of innocence clinging to her; and she knew that Fen Dal would destroy it before too long. Perhaps it was best this way, her golden eagle would have to learn at some point that not all wild creatures can be gentled back into sanity.

But Lexa was also well aware of another who had looked at Fen Dal, but without the starry eyed gaze, without the first blush of love. No, Mordecai looked at Fen Dal as if she could see all of Fen Dal’s secrets, had seen the utter suffering and filth of her soul and yet offered no judgement. She smiled ruefully. Peregrine was bound to have her heart broken. But Mordecai had the strength to push and tear at Fen Dal, break her so she could be rebuilt, so she could be redeemed. Fen Dal didn’t need a gentle hand, she never had. She understood violence and pain, loyalty, and strength of spirit and flesh. She needed someone who would knock her to the ground and help her back up until she learned how to be whole again.

Mordecai would be the one to save Fen Dal, if Mordecai had the sense to realize that Fen Dal was what she needed, what she wanted. She shook her head in mild irritation. Perhaps she should send Malachi also. He was able to reach Mordecai when others were unable. He had always had the ability to draw his twin back into the world, help her leave behind the space in her head for the space of her people.

And Peregrine…well, there was one…a Skaikru. She thought perhaps this particular Skaikru needed Peregrine, but just didn’t know it yet. She nodded sharply. Pushing her shoulders back and consciously trying to clear her mind. Her people were safe. She had made sure they were cared for. Now it was time to think about what was to come. What she would do if the worst came to pass. She swallowed hard.

She adjusted her sword on her hip one last time and then pulled on her gloves. She started to make her way out of the tent, when something caught her eye. She turned and slowly walked over to the little table. There was parchment and ink on the table, and she bent over and grasped the feather tightly in her hand, dipping it into the ink well. She carefully wrote the few lines, and nodded sharply. She rolled it up and slid it into the top of her boot, making sure it couldn’t be seen. As she straightened, she came face to face with Clarke. Her little Klark. She grasped the little doll, her lips twisting into a sad smile.

“Klark,” she whispered as she clenched it tightly in her fist. She rested her fist against her heart, feeling the beat in her fingers. She let out a shaky sigh, refusing to let the tears fall. She was stronger than this, and Clarke needed her to be at her strongest. She slowly uncurled her fist, gazing at the little doll nestled in the palm of her hand. And she couldn’t help it, she never had been able to. She raised it to her mouth and pressed a kiss against it, desperately wishing it was her Clarke she was holding right now. She smiled gently and slipped it inside the pocket of her coat. She patted it a few times, knowing it was a little bulky, but it rested over her heart and that was all that mattered.

She was ready.

She strode out of her tent, head held high, her hand wrapped loosely around the long guard of her ceremonial sword. It had been specially designed for her by Raven, Master of the Blades. She had called it a Katana, and it was beautiful and elegant with inlaid gold swirling. But even its finely wrought beauty couldn’t hide the deadly grace of its curved edge. And while Lexa only wore it for special ceremonies, it was anything but ceremonial. It could easily cleave a man’s head from his shoulders, and she had done that more than once with this sword. She made a note to remember to visit Raven in Polis and thank her again for the Katana and for the twin blades that she had made for Clarke.

She strode quickly to the ring, nodding at the clan leaders. She barely spared a look at Bellamy and Kane, but she saw them both nod their heads. She knew they understood that she couldn’t be seen as weak, couldn’t afford for the clans to think that she favored them. But as her eyes scanned the faces of the Skaikru, noting the many faces of the Delinquent Gonas, as they referred to themselves with pride; her eyes met a familiar pair of brown. She could clearly see the fear warring with her desire to remain strong, to be strong. She noted the tightly compressed lips, the taught strength in the lines of her shoulders. She nodded slowly, relieved to see the woman lift her chin in acknowledgement. Abby was strong enough. She would stay the course. She would not leave Clarke again.

She carefully made her way to her throne that had been moved from her tent. She sat down and nodded, knowing that the clans would come to present themselves. She nodded at Drago Cil, the priestess of Umbanda and one of her personal advisors, pleased to see she had arrived from Polis. She arched an eyebrow though when she saw who was with her. It seems she had seen fit to bring some of the students from the academy.

She let her eyes drift over the young, eager faces. She couldn’t help but admire Drago Cil for her manipulation. She had brought them with her to remind Lexa of what was at stake, but also of what she had accomplished, because these young gonas who stood at attention wearing the marks of their clans, but also the mark of the Coalition upon their faces…these….This was her legacy. This was her greatest gift to her people. Peace in the form of a new generation.

When she had united the clans into one coalition, she had expanded the Trikru Seken Academy. She had sent out a call to all of the clans to send their youngest and best to the Academy. Here they would learn to live together, to fight together, to be one people. They bled together, cried together, and they triumphed together. She couldn’t help the swell of pride that bloomed in her chest. They were the peacemakers, and she knew each of them by name.

Siya, The Growla, from the Horse Clan. She nodded to the young gona, who carefully nodded back; trying to hide her pleasure at being singled out by the Heda. She was young, but already a formidable gona. She was the youngest warrior to ever kill a Growla, a panther, as the Skaikru called them. She had only seen ten winters when the growlas came down from the hills, screaming in the night and ripping the ponies a part. She had in turn stalked the growla that was killing her father’s ponies, and she had killed it, but she bore the scars upon her face and chest. But she also wore the skin of the Growla with pride. She had earned each scar, earned the right to sit with the warriors. Soon she would be a Fos.

And next to her stood Arial of the Wolf Clan. She and Siya had been bitter rivals, but had eventually learned to tolerate each other, and then respect each other. Arial was unsurpassed in hand to hand combat, and she wore the wolf clawed gloves of her people, but she had foregone the ritual of filing her teeth into fangs as her people did. She had been harder to train, to mold. She was so fierce, eager to prove her worth, but she had not let go of her clan ties as easily as others had. But Lexa knew she could be the leader of a new Wolf Clan, that wouldn’t fall so easily under the spell of the Ice Clan. She was the birth of a new clan, a clan that didn’t have to live in the shadow of the Nation of Ice and Snow.

She let her gaze wander, until her eyes caught mischievous eyes staring back at her unashamedly. She arched an eyebrow, daring the gona to challenge her. She was strong of mind and body, excelling in all forms of combat. But Xlyre was known for her dark humor, her pranks. And she was good at them, because it was always so unexpected. She was discreet, quiet, often unnoticed, until she gave someone reason to see her. And it was just as she preferred. On her own terms. She was one of the Stone Clan, the only one to reside at the academy, and Lexa had been more than a little surprised when the D’etat of the Stone Clan had sent one of her own. Xlyre gave her a jaunty salute, and Lexa couldn’t help the twitch at the corner of her mouth as she scowled at the gona, who appeared unperturbed.

She nodded to each student, careful to make eye contact, to let them know she saw them. These young gonas were hers, in ways that none of her other people were. She had birthed them from the dregs of the bitter, broken clans; and she had remade them into a new image, a new future for her people. Once they graduated, they would be bound to a new clan, not of their birth, and they would share all that they had learned, binding the clans together once and for all. They were the birthright of her people. All of her people.

She glanced up from the long line of the Academy Gonas and nodded in turn to their mentors, but she saw something out of the corner of her eye, beyond the row of students. She pressed her lips tightly together as she watched The Trikova flit between the students. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe that she had seen The Trikova because The Trikova had been complacent. No, The Trikova wanted Lexa to know she was there, in the crowd, moving and gathering information.

Lexa felt more than heard the swish of air moving at her side, and she could feel the familiar, reassuring presence of Kellan.

“She is here,” she murmured to Kellan, watching as Kellan barely nodded her head in reply.

“I haven’t seen her in a very long time,” muttered Lexa.

“Sha, Heda. But she has seen you.”

Lexa snorted at that, knowing it was true. The Trikova was the most famous of Kellan’s rangers, tasked with the unenviable duty of always being aware of the Heda’s movements. The Trikova was one of seven Jusgonas, bound by blood to Heda. They were Heda’s guardians and protectors. Few knew they existed, and even fewer knew how many there were. And if Lexa were completely honest, she wasn’t entirely sure if there were only seven. Sometimes she saw them in the trees, sometimes standing just outside the lights of the fires, and she knew it was their way of telling her that they were there, waiting and watching, ready to protect her at all costs.

“How is she?”

“She is well, Heda. I will tell you that you asked after her.”

“Beja,” and Lexa chuckled quietly, “she probably already knows.”

Kellan smiled, unable to keep her pride from slipping into her tone, “Sha, Heda. Erika is the best of the best. She was chosen for this from birth. Trained to be the next Heda’s guardian. It has been her honor.”

Lexa swallowed hard, knowing it was true, but also knowing the sacrifice required of Erika, The Trikova; of the sacrifice required by Kellan.

“Tell your, houmon, Kellan, that she is to pass her duties to another when we arrive in Polis. Tell her that her Heda has ordered that she spend time with her houmon.”

“Heda, it is not necessary…” Her voice trailed off as Lexa raised her hand sharply. Kellan smiled. She had always known that loving Erika would require great sacrifice, that their lives would not be their own. They were Heda’s. They had always been Hedas, and when they took their last breath, they would still be Hedas.

“Mochof, Heda.” She bowed her head respectfully and melted back into the crowd to the tree line, knowing that her Trikova would find her.

Lexa glanced around at the warriors, noting some were restless, shifting slightly, their hard boots dragging through the dirt. They were all strong and fierce, their faces covered in tattoos, many wearing war paint. It would have worried her except she knew that Luna, Kellan, and Sebastian had deliberately placed their warriors throughout the crowd, ready and eager to jump in at a moment’s notice to quell a riot. She nodded her head at the members of the Giant Clan. They stood on the outskirts of the crowd, carefully keeping it contained.

The villagers were scattered throughout the crowd and children and archers alike perched in the trees for a better view. It was going to truly be a spectacle. She had expected nothing less. She hoped it wouldn’t be too distracting for Clarke. She pushed her from her mind, refusing to dwell on her Skai Heda. She needed to be focused and alert, ready for trouble. More than a few warriors looked disgruntled, as if they were waiting for that proverbial spark that would launch them into another vicious cycle of bloodletting.

She idly crossed her legs and lazily drummed her fingers on the arm of her throne. She was a study in nonchalance, but she knew she wasn’t fooling Mordecai or Indra, both whom stood to either side of her. Malachi, Ryder, Nyko, and Linus were spread out to the sides of her throne, formidable and stern, glowering at all who became too boisterous.

Luna and Sebastian stood close enough to be within swords’ reach at a moment. They were near the students, and she was grateful. They had always understood the importance of the Academy, of what she was trying to build.

She heard the murmurs from the crowd start to swell, and feet start to stamp the ground. She straightened, her nerves carefully hidden under a stern glare. She was coming. The crowd parted, the people falling back in recognition, in respect; even those who wanted nothing more than to tear her throat out with their teeth. This was Klark kom Skaikru, the Destroyer of the Mountain, the WanHeda.

Lexa felt her heart stutter in her chest as Clarke approached her throne, and she slowly uncrossed her legs, letting them fall open slightly. She sat up straighter, her eyes burning. She curled her lips back in an unintentional snarl. This was the WanHeda standing in front of her and her warriors, with kohl streaked across her eyes, a single line running down each cheek. Her hair was intricately braided, and Lexa’s eyes bulged slightly. They were a warrior’s braids, a Clan Leader’s braids, but more than that. So much more than that.

Clarke’s blue leather jacket hung open, and Lexa could see the heavy vest underneath. The tight black pants were molded to her figure, and Lexa could see the muscles in her legs, and she licked her dry lips. One blade was strapped to her left thigh, and a small sword was in her belt. But Lexa knew what was strapped underneath her right forearm, a poisoned blade courtesy of Raven, Master of the Blades.

“Heda Lexa kom Trikru and the Twelve Clans,” Clarke dipped her head in respect and widened her stance slightly. She stood tall and strong, and Lexa felt pride and love swell quickly in her chest, pounding against her ribs. She wanted nothing more than to rise and pledge her own allegiance to this creature from the stars. But she held her place and simply nodded.

“Heda Klark kom Skaikru.” She raised a hand and gestured briefly, knowing the Elder Maestra would take over for now. She let her eyes roam restlessly across Clarke’s form. Her fingers tightened slightly on the arms of her throne, and she had to consciously make herself relax, to uncurl her fingers.

“Heda Klark kom Skaikru, WanHeda,” The Elder Maestra shuffled forward to stand before Clarke, gesturing for her to turn and face the crowds, “Why are you here today?”

Clarke swallowed hard, thankful for Ryder’s careful tutelage on the questions that would be asked of her. “I am here to answer for my crimes.”

“And what crimes are those?”

Clarke raised her head, jutting out her chin. She steadily met the Elder’s gaze, and for a brief moment she thought she saw tender amusement in the dark eyes. “I attacked the Heda, I tried to poison her; and I have come to submit myself to the will of the laws of the Trikru and the twelve clans.”

The Elder Maestra nodded quietly and then raised her hands as the voices in the crowed murmured and rose, growling in the still air.

“Have you come of your own free will?” Clarke jerked her head up sharply, and she heard Lexa stir behind her. She hadn’t expected this question. She narrowed her eyes briefly, wondering what the Elder’s intention was.

“Sha, I have.”

The Elder Maestra raised her arms again, “Let it be known that the Heda of the Skaikru came of her own free will, gave herself up to the council for punishment. She has chosen to meet her combatant, Bardou of the Wolf Clan in a fight to the death,” she waited for the roar of the crowd to die down as Bardou stepped forward into the ring. He didn’t bother to acknowledge the crowd, just stared at Clarke with dead eyes. She felt a soft, cold wind blow across the ring, and she wondered if the old saying was true. Someone had just stepped on her grave.

The Elder Maestra waited until the crowd’s roars died down into a shifting rumbling. “This is a fight to the death. Should Heda Clarke survive, then she will be free of further punishment for her crimes. Should she fall, then she will be found guilty, and her death will be in this ring. Should she yield, then she will die at the tree. So say you all?”

The crowd roared their approval, their arms high in the air shaking their fists and their weapons. Lexa held back her grimace, as the roar of the crowd swept the ring. They wanted blood, and she wasn’t sure they actually cared whose. They simply wanted to taste vengeance and absolution. She raised her hand and nodded to the Elder Maestra.

“This ring is complete, unless any clan leader would like to speak now?” She eyed the clan leaders in turn daring them to speak out before she could seal the ring. This was the most dangerous moment, the moment when clan leaders could speak without fear of retaliation. This is where they could throw their challenge in the ring, a challenge to the Heda.

Lexa stared straight ahead, impassively, but she saw the shifting and bodies started to back up. She grit her teeth as she saw the leader of the Blood Clan slowly making his way to the front. She should have known he would offer a challenge. So be it. She would just as soon part his head from his shoulders. She wrapped her hand around the guard of her katana. It would sing with blood again.

“I come to offer a broker.” The voice was soft, like a melody, but it carried power across the ring and Lexa stiffened. This was unexpected. She rose to her feet and looked at the Elder Maestra who nodded slowly. She turned and looked at Drago Cil who also slowly nodded. She walked down the dais to stand at Clarke’s back.

“Come forth, Fee D’Etat Lowiiie.” She waited quietly for the woman to step forward, and she was pleased to note the Blood Clan General had fallen back, unwilling to offer even an appearance of challenge to the head of the Stone Clan by pushing his challenge forward now that she had spoken.

Lexa nodded when the woman finally stood before her, flanked by lithe young archers.

“Heda, please forgive this unorthodox intrusion upon the trial, but I thought it best to speak now, when all can hear me.” She was of medium build, with smooth skin darker than Lexa’s. Her eyes were soft, and she was beautiful, but power shimmered along her skin; and Lexa winced at the feel of it whispering against her own flesh.

The Stone Clan were the newest of the clans, having arrived upon their shores 60 summers before. They were beautiful and spoke in melodies. They told of a land across the seas, shattered and destroyed by the bombs. They were the few that had survived, but the wastelands had encroached quickly in the crumbling cities, and food became even more scarce. They had braved the journey across the seas hoping to find what was left of America. They were used to warm climates, but had made their home in the far North East, away from the Ice Nation, in the land of the ancient Arcadians, among the boulders and rocky cliffs of the coast.

They had kept to themselves, and when the Ice Nation had thought to conqueror them, they had retreated into the forests and mountains of their new land. They had called upon ancient magics, and sent swirling fogs to blind the Ice warriors. The few warriors that returned spoke of madness and death, of never-ending fog that blinded them, and confused them, turning ally into foe. They spoke of animals that had turned against them at the whispers of the warriors on the ground. They told strange stories of tree skeletons grasping at their clothing, their arms and legs, tearing them to pieces while archers sat in the trees whispering ancient words, no one could speak.

Lexa hadn’t believe the tales, and had sent emissaries to the Stone Clan. She had been shocked by their appearance, noting all were beautiful with the same, serene features. But their eyes burned, and melodies fell from their lips. It had taken time, but Lexa had learned their language, and had slowly built a level of trust with the Fee D’Etat Lowiiie and her daughters.

She glanced at them now, nodding at the youngest, who was about sixteen. She was rumored to have powers, rumored to be able to speak to the animals. She was delicate and winsome, her ears slightly pointed. Lexa believed it was a mutation from the radiation that had soaked the land, but unlike many clans, the Stone Clan did not cast out those that suffered from the green poisoning. The ears simply enhanced her ethereal appearance.

“Julixen, bienvenue to Trikru land. I this is your first time beyond your borders?”

“Oui, Heda,” and Lexa was stunned when the young girl looked up from beneath dark lashes. Her eyes were ice blue, but they seemed to burn with light around the edges. She heard murmurings and glanced up in surprise to see birds taking wing and coming to rest upon the limbs of the trees. She was surprised by the sheer number.

“So it is true,” she muttered.

Lowiiie laughed quietly, “Does it matter, Heda? She is young, but strong. It is time. I have brought her here to see the might of our Heda, to bear witness to a new rising.” Lowiiie stepped closer, drawing Lexa in, beckoning with her soft voice.

Lowiiie gestured to the other girl who stood at her side. “Toric Dren has seen it. Tell her, Toric.”

Lexa glanced at Clarke and smiled gently, trying to reassure her. She could see the nervous tick in her eye.

“C’est un honneur, Heda,” she bowed and then turned and bowed slightly to Clarke. “I have seen it, Heda. The rise of a Queen.” She flicked her eyes briefly towards Clarke.

“Seen it or…” she let her words trail off. She wasn’t blind, she had heard tell of Toric Dren’s abilities, that she could cause men to doubt themselves, she could make them believe whatever she wanted. She eyed the girl, only slightly younger than herself. Her skin was a light gold, and her dark eyes gleamed. She wondered how she and Julixen were Lowiiie’s daughters, as none of them bore any resemblance to each other.

“Do not be fooled, Heda, by what you see before you. The ties of blood are purely accidental. They mean little in this new world. It matters naught what she has seen, but what you choose to believe.”

Lexa stared briefly at Lowiiie and then flicked her eyes between the three, whether or not they had powers didn’t matter. What mattered was that the clans believed they did, and therefore left them alone. She smiled slightly. It was genius really, let the other clans make up the stories, and neither deny nor confirm. It had worked brilliantly, and had kept their small clan safe.

She stepped back, letting her shoulder deliberately brush against Clarke’s, who was staring with unbridled curiosity at the three newcomers. She raised her voice to be heard over the crowd, “Quiet! Fee D’Etat Lowiiie has come to offer a broker. Let her be heard.”

Lowiiie stepped into the middle of the ring turning slowly, her dark gaze slipping across the faces of the clans. She stopped when she found the face she was looking for, and she nodded to the surprised woman.

“I have come to offer a broker to the Skaikru,” she held out her hand to Abby, who with a befuddled look on her face slowly took it. Lowiiie gently pulled her into the ring and Bellamy, C. Sweeney, and Kane quickly stepped forward to flank Abby. Lowiiie nodded in approval.

“Hear me, Clans, I have come to offer a broker to the Skaikru. The Stone Clan looks forward to greeting the Skaikru as sisters and brothers.” She raised her voice to be heard over the mutterings of the crowd. Her lip curled into a knowing smirk.

“We have much to learn from each other. So let it be known, the Stone Clan greets the Skaikru.” She held Abby’s hand in the air and then gently kissed it before stepping back, and raising her hand once again to the crowd. She smirked at their faces, some awed, some confused, some clearly amused by what she had done. Sebastian nodded in approval.

“The Stone Clan stands with the Heda of the Thirteen Clans,” and with a gesture she motioned her daughters to follow her back into the crowd. They slipped through the crowd and blended seamlessly with the Skaikru.

“What just happened?” muttered Abby from the corner of her mouth to Kane.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Lexa has mentioned the Stone Clan before. They came from across the sea 70 years ago, from what was once Europe. I believe they were speaking a form of French before they switched to Trigedasleng. According to Lexa they keep to themselves, are believed to possess ancient magic, and they fear no one.” He chuckled.

Bellamy leaned forward, his voice a hushed whisper, “I’m pretty sure, Abby, that they just told the other clans to fuck off,” he chuckled at Abby’s amused snort, “they basically just allied themselves to us, but still made it known that they will back the Commander.” He nodded approvingly, “Smart. They just pointed out that taking on the Skaikru means risking the wrath of the Trikru and the Stone Clan.”

  1. Sweeney, one of the few survivors of Hydro Station who was training to be a guard, jerked their head in the general direction of the Blood Clan warriors, “she also made the Blood Clan back down. For sure, their general was going to issue a challenge to Heda. They will think twice now.” They rubbed their cheek for a moment, their brow furrowed as they replayed the words of the Stone Clan leader. She had been hard to understand, for the words that tripped from her tongue were like music, a lovely distraction.



“Thirteen Clans,” they murmured, their face breaking into a smile. “She said Thirteen Clans, not twelve.” They nodded eagerly at Abby and Kane, and Bellamy nodded quietly.

“Come on, let’s get back in the crowd. We need to make sure we are safe.” He cupped Abby’s elbow and pulled her back to the front of the crowd. “She is strong, Abby. She will triumph.”

Lexa turned back, hiding her smile. Lowiiie was a brilliant tactician, and it occurred to her that she was also a friend, at least as close to a friend as the Heda was allowed. The little stunt she had pulled had been entirely for Lexa and the Skaikru’s benefit. The truth was, the Stone Clan didn’t need the Trikru or the Skaikru. They didn’t even really need the Coalition, but they had accepted it. And now they had made their point. They would stand with the Heda and Skaikru against the other clans, if it came to that.

Thirteen Clans. The rise of a Queen. She bit her lip as she met Clarke’s confused gaze. She gave her the smallest of smiles, hoping she would understand that she couldn’t simply reach out and touch her like she longed to do.

She sat on her throne, finally assured that no one else would speak. No challenge would be issued. No one was quite willing at this moment to go against the Stone Clan and Trikru. She nodded ready for the trial to begin.

Clarke stared at her quietly. She had seen it in her eyes, had known how bound Lexa was to tradition, to her duty as Heda. She thought she would begrudge it, but she understood. They all had a role to play, and now it was time to play her role of the repentant confessor. It was time to fight and triumph. There were no other options.

She started across the ring at Bardou, noting his great size, the sinewy muscles that bulged. But his eyes were dead, he had no heart. He was a beast of war, a trained wolf, who only heeded his master. He would react instinctively, like a cornered animal. He wouldn’t think ahead, he would simply attack, pushing and swinging over and over again. He would rely upon his sheer size and the heft of his ax to intimidate her, corner her, and kill her. And his teeth. She had felt her stomach turn when she had seen the glistening rows of fangs. She had heard that they preferred to tear out the throats of their enemies, and they filed their teeth into jagged fangs to quench their bloodlust.

She nodded. Fen Dal had been right. She would beat him, because she would outthink him. She would slide under him, cutting at his haunches as Abby had shown her. She would cripple him before he could end her. She would have to be quicker than she had ever been.

She bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, her vision narrowing, so all she saw was his dark dead eyes, and the claws upon his gloves. He might be a wolf, but she was WanHeda. She had felled a mountain, and she would fell this Wolf, and put it out of his misery. Because something so dead, must have hurt so much, once upon a time. He deserved to be released to his ancestors.

It was time. She steadied her breath, her hand clasped around the pommel of her short sword. She had already thrown off her jacket, to reveal a thick, long-sleeved shirt covered by a thick leather vest. She felt the reassuring weight of the poisoned daggers tied under her forearms.

She was ready, and judging by the way he was hefting his ax, he was ready also. So she nodded to the Elder Maestra, and so did Bardou.

The Elder Maestra took out her candle, holding it high. “I hereby seal this…” but her words were drowned out in the thunder of hooves as the crowd scattered to reveal three large white horses prancing and snorting in the ring.

Linus snarled and stepped forward quickly, “Fall back, Heda Clarke.” He felt the dread pool in his stomach as he gazed at the three figures sitting astride the horses. They were dressed in grey furs, and black and blue paint adorned their faces.

The figure in front, the smallest, quickly dismounted and ambled into the ring. She carried herself on a knife edge of grace and savagery. The beauty of her face marred only by a bloody handprint covering her right eye and cheek. And when she tossed back her hood with a knowing smirk, the crowd roared and shifted. She pulled a bloodied dagger from her hip and tossed it at Clarke’s feet.

“So we finally meet, WanHeda. I have been looking forward to this moment.”

Clarke stepped back, and even as she did it, she realized her mistake as the woman’s eyes lit up. She had given ground, had revealed her weakness. She was now the prey, and the predator in front of her with the scorching, cold eyes, and gleaming teeth was not one she had anticipated.

The woman laughed, her voice rich and delicate, but the laugh was anything but joyful, and Clarke shivered, sure a demon had touched her. The woman licked her lips, leering at Clarke and stepping closer, “Such beautiful hair you have, such pretty lips. I almost wish I didn’t have to do this. I would like to know that precious mouth better,” she whispered to Clarke, smirking when Clarke’s eyes widened.

She raised her voice, “This trial is not yet sealed. I have come to stand in as Champion for Bardou of the Wolf Clan,” and she laughed as the Wolf Clan howled behind her, closing ranks. The Ice Nation stomped their feet, their voices booming in the otherwise dark silence that hung heavy in the ring.

Bardou hefted his ax down from his shoulder and nodded to his Queen. He curled his lips at her. It mattered not to him, in the end. The WanHeda would die, and he would return to his caves. He stepped out of the ring to be swallowed by his compatriots.

The woman turned towards Lexa, the smirk dying upon her lips. “Well met, Heda,” she hissed the last word, chuckling at how Lexa’s eyes narrowed. She imagined she could see the growing panic inside the girl, the girl with the bloody sword who didn’t deserve to lead the coalition. She was here to rip from her the one thing she loved. She would destroy Lexa without ever lifting her blade to the girl. She would drive her to madness and then war. And then she would take her rightful place upon the Throne of Trees. She smiled, her lips twisting harshly.

Lexa’s vision narrowed until all she could see was the smirking face in front of her. Numerous feet separated them, but she could clearly see her sparking eyes, the curl of her lips, the way she held her head. It was all too familiar, and she felt her heart slam against her ribs, and the once-tempered rage begin to build. She should have known. She should have seen this betrayal coming. She had seen the signs, heard the murmurings, but she had ignored them all in favor of losing herself in a warm, willing body. But how wrong she had been.

She vaguely heard shouting, dozens of angry and worried voices rising harshly in the morning air. Her ears twitched at the sound of stamping of feet in cadence and hard leather shields being thumped against armored chests. She could hear the scrape of steel, and she was sure she heard arrows being notched.

She turned her head minutely, the wretched screams finally reaching her ears, and she saw Fen Dal on the ground being held down by Mordecai. Her screams were incomprehensible, and she furrowed her brow, wondering what she was saying, not that it even mattered anymore. This was how it was going to end, and she should have known better than to believe that life could be about more than just surviving.

But her eyes met angry violet, and she marveled at how red Fen Dal’s face was, the rage clearly simmering just under the surface of her skin. She imagined that at any moment, Fen Dal’s face would begin to crack and her rage would finally seep out like black puss. She wanted to laugh at the irony, except it wasn’t so much irony, as tragedy.

And it only took a few seconds, for Fen Dal to prove why she had been her greatest warrior, as she threw off Mordecai and scrambled to her knees. Lexa expected her to rise, to throw herself into the fray, to undo all that she had bled for over the years, but instead she lifted her shaking fists in supplication to Lexa, the angry tears streaking through the dirt on her face, her muscles rippling under her skin.

And Lexa could feel the boiling rage, a living beast that was prowling waiting for the word from its master. She started curiously at this…this thing…that begged and pleaded, pounding stoned fists into the dirt. She saw the madness swirling in her dark eyes, and she wondered what the point was of holding her back anymore. This tragedy of flesh and bone on her knees was no longer her greatest general, her most trusted friend, her family. She had been reduced to this sniveling mess of burning flesh.

And she lifted her hand to give her that final permission, to release her from her pain, but she stayed her hand at the last moment…

“No.”

It wasn’t particularly loud, but it was clear and resolute, and Lexa hesitated, her eyes widening a fraction when she realized just who had dared to defy her. Was there no more loyalty? Were they all turning against her? Perhaps this was what she deserved.

“No, Heda. Beja. Give her to me,” and perhaps she shouldn’t have been so damn surprised by the tall warrior who had managed to scramble to her feet and stood directly behind Fen Dal gripping her by her neck. And despite everything, she couldn’t help the twinge of amusement, that out of everyone she could have had; quiet, unassuming, loyal Mordecai had chosen the warrior touched by madness. She had seen how she had looked at her, but she didn’t think Mordecai had it in her. She had been wrong again. So instead she nodded.

Mordecai grabbed Fen Dal more securely by the back of the neck, knowing that the other woman didn’t even feel her hands upon her, couldn’t comprehend what was about to happen. Her intense relief at Heda’s nod was replaced with the sad resignation that she didn’t know if she could save Fen Dal. Perhaps it would be better to just let her go, to end her fight for her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and she felt the muscles underneath her hand stiffen briefly and then sag as the wild ramblings stopped. But Mordecai drew her hand back and slammed the butt of her dagger into the side of her head, but she caught her and in her arms and held her for just a brief moment before laying her gently in the dust. And then she straightened, knowing the worst was yet to come, and she stood ready, with a heavy heart.

It had been so brief, happening in moments, and Lexa tore her gaze from Fen Dal to stare again into the face she had seen so many times in her dreams. And her fingers tightened on the arms of her throne when she heard the all too familiar, warm voice.

“Really, Lexa? Did you really expect anything different? Did you think I would just let it go?” The voice was so soft, so earnest, and Lexa’s lips twisted into a harsh smile at the way her blue eyes gleamed.

She felt the bitter bile rise and coat her tongue, and she barely managed to hold it back. She couldn’t be weak, she couldn’t afford to show just how wrecked she truly was. “No, but I didn’t think you would be such a branwada as to risk your people, to risk everything on this foolish need for retribution. I slew your warriors and made you bend your knee. You should know better than to challenge me.”

“Oh, Lexa,” and the woman looked at her with amused pity. “It isn’t you I am challenging. It is your blonde whore. I am going to enjoy this, just like I did all those years ago.”

Lexa stiffened, the pain lancing through her at the threat. She briefly glanced around, noting the warriors all on edge, their weapons in their hands ready to pounce, to spill each other’s blood. The Skaikru looked angry and worried, and she wondered if they had known or ever suspected that this could happen. Her closest allies stood at the ready, but it didn’t warm her heart. Instead she felt the burden of their lives resting upon her shoulders. She was going to burn them all.

The warriors of Ice and Blood smirked, and the Wolves prowled restlessly behind them, ready to do their masters bidding. And she knew with just one word, they would all annihilate each other. And maybe it was time to allow it, to concede that her coalition had fractured beyond repair. That this bloodshed would be her legacy, and maybe from the ashes a new world would be born.

She glanced towards Indra. She wasn’t her greatest warrior, but she was her most loyal soldier, her most trusted general. Indra who never questioned, but followed and fought and bled. She was ready to do her bidding. Her eyes flitted to the young eagle who stood behind Indra. Peregrine’s face was white, and she clutched her hands to her chest, but her eyes…her eyes no longer saw this world, and Lexa wondered what visions she was seeing. War? Death? Betrayal? Fire?

“Indra.”

And it was all that was necessary and Indra stepped forward and drew her sword. Indra imagined that she could hear the slide of each nick of metal against her worn scabbard. It was the longest draw of her life, and she knew what was coming next. She had heard the breaking in her Heda’s voice, had heard the demons roar. She looked at the Elder Maestra, who was simply too calm, too composed, and her chest burned with hate. Because this was how Heda’s rule would end, and she couldn’t help but believe that this meddling Elder Maestra had always known.

She pointed her sword at the Elder and hissed, “You! You knew. You saw this and said nothing!” The tip of her sword wavered as she stepped in front of Heda, her dark eyes searing into the Elder Maestra’s, who barely managed to not tremble under the scouring of her gaze.

“I see all possibilities, Indra. This was only one. There is more to come.”

“Lies! You speak with a forked tongue, in riddles and games!” She stalked closer, step by step, the crunch of dust breaking underneath her feet. “No, more!” But she hesitated when she saw the sadness flicker in the Elder Maestra’s eyes.

“It is time to choose, Indra.” And Indra felt her heart drop, and a gaping hollow open inside her chest. All it would take was one word, one move, and the ground would run red with blood. One whisper, and this inevitable war would begin. But it would be the last war, because they would destroy each other right here, in this clearing. No one would be spared.

She closed her eyes in resignation and remembered all those years ago when her love had held her in the dark of winter. He had whispered in her ear telling her that the day would come when she would have to defy Heda, would have to choose differently. She remembered his words so clearly.

_“Someday, you will have to choose, Indy, between Heda and what is best for your people. When the time comes, just make sure that it is a choice worth dying for, worth sacrificing everything for. Because the cost will be far greater than you can imagine that you could ever pay. Make sure it is worth dying for, Indy. For you will burn, and all that you love will burn with you._

She waited for the command she knew was coming. The command that would damn them all, that would lead to all-out war. And she alone heard it in the wreckage and devastation of her Heda.

“Frag em op.”

She turned to fully face the woman with the cold blue eyes. She cursed the day she had ever laid eyes upon her. Her hand tightened around the handle of her sword, and her war cry burst from her lips and she pivoted sharply. She was turning…turning….and her sword was outstretched and arced with deadly precision. She felt the moment the tip cut into the flesh, and it reverberated up her arm. And she saw the thin streams of blood rip through the delicate skin in a wide, splashing arc. She felt the hot blood hit her face and sear her down to the bone.

And the look of surprise on Lexa’s face was forever seared in her memory, when the head toppled from the shoulders and felt to the dirt with a wet thump.

“Hod op,” roared Lexa as she launched herself from her throne staring in shock at the twisted features of the Ice Nation general’s head.

She heard Mordecai already moving, both swords at the ready as she threw herself in front of Clarke to protect her. She heard Nia howl in rage at the death of her lover, and Indra thrust herself forward, pressing the tip of her sword against Nia’s neck.

“Broga,” she hissed, “you would dare send your consort to assassinate the Heda?”

“Hod op,” roared Lexa again, her voice straining as she fought to keep control of the warriors who were jostling hard against each other, howling and roaring as they pounded their feet on the ground. The very air reverberated with their anger, their bloodlust.

She should have known the Broga would betray her, and force her to prove herself to the coalition. Her chest heaved in rage, and her heart pounded so hard against her ribs, that she was sure it would explode in her chest, but not before she finally killed the Queen of Snow and Ice, the Queen of the Ice Nation.

She heaved herself to her feet, her guards quickly swarming around her as she came to stand in front of the Queen. Her delicate features were twisted in hate, and Lexa carefully schooled her features, and forced herself to relax her fists. The Queen was out of control, and she needed to stay in control, despite her momentary lapse when she had ordered Indra to kill all of the Ice Nation warriors.

She couldn’t afford to spare Clarke a glance, but she could feel the warmth of her gaze, and she took courage from the love that she sheltered within her breast. She took a steadying breath.

“You have interfered for the last time, Broga,” she whispered, refusing to call her by her name. She was Broga the Harbinger of Death, not Nia the Queen of Ice and Snow, who had once been her mother’s friend. She let a small smile curl at her lips, and her smirk was predatory, and her eyes darkened and burned. She wanted her to feel her pain. She leaned in closely, “You will die for this Broga, but I will not burn you so your soul may be free to join your lover’s,” she spit out the word lover. It was vile upon her tongue, and she couldn’t fathom how these two could have felt any sort of love for each other. Perhaps only in their sated cruelty.

“Heda.”

Lexa stiffened and slowly turned her head as the Elder Maestra approached on steady feet. She met Lexa’s gaze evenly, knowing that what she would say next might very well drive Indra to take her head.

“The Queen of Ice and Snow has a right to be here. She has the right to call for a champion. She has named herself as the Champion of Bardou.” She took a deep breath, filling her lungs. She still held the candle in her hand and with a snap of her fingers, a small ball of fire appeared in her hand. She barely resisted the smile that threatened to break free when she heard the uneasy murmurs, and the warriors hastily drew back to give her room.

She turned in a slow circle, allowing her voice to ring out in the clearing. “The Queen of Ice and Snow has offered herself as the Champion of the Wolf known as Bardou. Her offer is hereby accepted,” she hesitated and then raised her voice even louder to be heard over the stamping of feet and angry voices slowly raising in the clearing.

She lowered the flame towards the candle, “I do hereby seal this…”

“NO!”

Indra pushed her way forward just as Lincoln, Ryder, and Bellamy threw themselves into the ring, their voices rising louder and louder as they all shouted at once calling to be accepted as champion.

The Elder Maestra waited as they jostled and pushed forward the anger and fear slipping into their cracking voices. She glanced at Lexa who had taken a few steps back to better keep an eye on the warriors crowding into the ring. She felt an immeasurable pride swell inside her chest as some of her warriors and warriors from other clans clamored to be named Clarke’s champion.

She smiled when she heard Raven’s voice screaming in the clearing, “Let me at her! Let me at the bitch! I will be the champion, and I will blow her to hell!” Raven was holding a small object in her hand, and it occurred to Lexa that she should probably be worried about what Raven might do, but she relaxed as soon as she saw Peregrine slip through the crowd to stand next to Raven. She wasn’t sure what Peregrine said, but she trusted the young eagle, for she had a quiet strength that soothed even the most angry, and she was relieved to see Raven momentarily distracted.

But Octavia would not be so distracted, and her face was twisted in anger as she raised her sword calling for the head of the Ice Bitch. And she saw Indra beam with pride at her Seken. She wanted to chuckle, but couldn’t. She needed Clarke to choose a Champion.

And as they shoved and jostled and pleaded their case to the Elder Maestra, she turned to Clarke, lifting her hand out, palm up, pleading with her. “Choose, Clarke. Choose your champion.” And she held her breath, praying that just this once, Clarke would give in, would do what was wisest.

“No.”

It was if a stone had been dropped in a small pond, and everything still for a moment. And the word hung in the air, and no one moved as Clarke pushed forward, placing her hand against Mordecai’s chest and giving her a reassuring nod. She strode forward, past Lexa, unable to meet her eye, for she feared she would give in if she did.

She pushed between Ryder and Bellamy, placing her hands on their chests, patting them gently. She smiled at Lincoln and Octavia, and even at Indra who seethed in anger.

“No. This is my fight.” She felt their protests build in their chests, under her palms, and she pushed them away. She steadied her voice and firmed her resolve. She lifted her head high, “I accept Queen Nia as Champion. We will fight!” She turned to the Elder Maestra, but she could feel the weight of Lexa’s gaze burning into her neck, but she refused to look back. “Seal this trial, Elder Maestra.”

And the ball of flame descended and lit the candle with a woosh. They were all forced back from harsh flame that shot into the sky, but then settled to rest snugly into the candle.

“This Trial is sealed. Heda Clarke kom Skaikru will fight Queen Nia of Ice and Snow. To the death.” Her voice boomed out across the clearing, and the voices fell until nothing more was heard but the slow creaking of leather as the warriors stepped back. It was done.

She felt the warm hand dance briefly across her lower back, and then Lexa was gone. She didn’t turn when she heard her settle in her throne, didn’t flinch when Indra slid her sword back into her scabbard. And she raised her chin and looked Queen Nia dead in the eye, a silent challenge. A promise.

“You!” spat the Queen, “I killed her first love, and my only regret was that Lexa couldn’t see me do it. But you…” and she laughed, her delicate voice grating along Clarke’s nerves, “You, I will kill in front of her. I will kill you slowly, and she will be the one to suffer.”

And the Queen reached up and undid the white cape, and she threw it to the side. She pulled at the smooth wooden handle at her waist, and with a casual flick of her wrist, the long pieces of leather slowly unfurled from around her body.

Clarke felt the dread pool in her body as the Queen stood before her in her leather armor, a long whip held at her side. She kept idly flicking it, and Clarke willed herself to not glance at the tongues of the whip hissing through the dirt. She thought there were four tongues, each appeared to be decorated with shells and broken, rusted pieces of metal. She barely repressed the shudder, realizing that the Queen’s plan was to hold her at bay and to rip her flesh from her bones, piece by agonizing piece.

And Lexa would have to watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the new cameos are (in order of appearance): Drago Cil = Dragoncila, Siya "The Growla" = siyathecat2414, Arial Wolf = Arial Wolf, Xlyre = Xlyre, Erika "The Trikova" = erikashadow, Fee D'Etat Lowiiie = Lowiiie, Julixen = Julixena452,  
> Toric Dren = Nerd Rage, C. Sweene = csweeney122


	40. Trial: Fight to the Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh look...the fight is here!! Woot!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie. I had a lot of trouble with this. Writing combat scenes are not my forte, and hopefully this isn't too bad. And I'm sorry this is so late. I've been sick. The virus I had back in October, came back with a vengeance. But here it is. Enjoy.

 

She stepped forward, her palms clammy and moist, desperately trying to control the urge to turn and flee. As she stepped further into the ring, Indra brushed up against her, staring with piercing, knowing eyes. She bent her head and turned her body into Clarke’s, just enough so only Clarke could hear her.

“Nothing has changed, Clarke. You must get close to her as possible. She will try to hold you off with the whip, so she can shred you to death. You must brave the whip to get close enough.” Her words were said in a hurried, whispered rush, but Clarke felt each one pushing into her, burrowing into her flesh and all she could see was the whip.

She didn’t dare turn and look at Lexa, too afraid that her strength would falter that she would betray herself in front of the Heda of the twelve clans. She couldn’t afford to be weak, to even be seen as weak. But she could feel Lexa’s hot, heavy stare itching at the back of her neck. She casually reached up her hand and palmed the back of her neck, her pinky and index fingers up in the air, her thumb at the perfect right degree angle. She knew Lexa would see it, would know what it meant.

She stepped forward into the ring, and her boots scritched against the dirt as she shifted her weight. The crowd roared their approval, although some taunted her from the sidelines. She understood. Everyone wants to see a hero fall. And she had done when these clan leaders hadn’t been able to do: burn the mountain. And now they wanted to see her bleed, they wanted her to fail, so they could gloat that she wasn’t to be feared, that the mountain had been a fluke.

She tried to tune them out, tried to open her other senses. She needed every available advantage, and she refused to look at the whip slithering through the dirt, taunting her. Instead she focused on cold, blue eyes, hoping the queen would give away her first move.

But inevitably her gaze was drawn to the hissing whip, and she barely suppressed a shudder. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from it, and she knew that not only would it slice her skin, but the barbed hooks would dig deeply into her flesh and tear it from her bones.

And when the first crack of the whip split the air, she had told herself she was ready, that she could bear it, that she would be strong. But it was so quick, so unexpected despite the fact she had been waiting for it, and as it curled around her calf, slicing through the fabric of her pants, it tore a small gasp from her throat.

She immediately clamped her jaws down hard, trying to stifle the gasp that had already escaped. It stung like a small flash of fire on her skin, but it wasn’t overly painful, it had taken her by surprise, but the damage was done. She saw Indra shake her head slightly from the sideline, and she knew that her gasp had been heard and noted.

This trial wasn’t simply about proving her innocence or even her worth, it was about paying for her sins, and not bowing under the pain. She grit her teeth and circled the queen, both of them never taking their eyes off each other, but the queen wasn’t done.

“What’s wrong, strikon? Can’t handle a little pain?” She laughed and flicked her whip casually, almost nonchalantly, as if she didn’t care whether or not her blows landed. She was playing with her and Clarke tightened her grip on her short sword, knowing it wouldn’t do much good, but she needed to make the Queen believe that it was her main weapon.

So she ignored the taunts, the knowing gleam in cold blue eyes, and she lunged lightly, testing the queen’s defenses. The queen simply laughed and backed up, flicking her whip at Clarke’s boots, tapping them lightly, making sure that Clarke understood that she could touch her wherever she pleased. Clarke bit her lip, and steadied her grip, trying to ignore the moisture in her palms. She desperately wanted to wipe them on her pant leg, but didn’t dare loosen her grip on her sword.

They continued to circle each other, their boots kicking up small clouds of dirt. Clarke tried to block out the crowd, the yelling and stamping of feet. But the Queen tossed up her hands, reveling in the roar of the crowd. She was here to put on a show, and she flicked her whip in the general direction of Lexa, before whirling and snapping the whip hard in the air. The crack split the noise of the crowd, and Clarke stumbled back trying to avoid the flick of the tongues, but still they caught at her jacket, jerking her forward.

She dug in her heels, but it was too late, and she hit the dirt with a thud. She rolled quickly, still maintaining her grip on the sword, but still the tongues flicked after her, chasing her as she scrambled madly to her feet. She felt them hit across the back of her thighs, and she choked down her rage and suppressed her wince at the burning pain. The Queen was simply taunting her, playing with her the way a predator plays with its next meal.

She scrambled to her feet, casting the briefest glance down to her jacket, noting the ragged tear in the blue leather. She felt a pang of regret knowing that the jacket would be ruined. She briefly considered taking it off, but she needed the little protection that it offered.

She circled warily, her muscles tightening as the queen flicked her wrist and extended her arm so that the whip would coil around it. Somehow Clarke knew what was coming next, and she lunged sideways as the queen spun, unleashing the coils of the whip. It caught the heel of Clarke’s boot, and despite no pain, the sheer force of the power behind it, threw her slightly off kilter and she landed heavily on her side instead of rolling like she had intended.

She couldn’t help the cry of pain as the whip hissed and sliced across her thigh. The barbs caught, and she felt the air leave her lungs in a woosh, as she felt her flesh tear. She rolled quickly, stumbling to her feet. She could feel the blood running down her leg. She knew she was in trouble. The game had begun in earnest.

She rushed the Queen, hoping to catch her off guard, and she dove and slid at the last minute, feet up and hit the queen in the legs with a satisfying crunch. She threw herself on top of her and punched her in the face as hard as she could. She was satisfied to hear the pained grunt and the blue eyes spark in rage. She ignored the pain in her knuckles and tried to punch her again, only for the queen to twist her hips and throw her off.

Clarke rolled quickly and scooped up her sword, but she was too late, and she felt the whip curl around the sword and jerk it out of her sweaty grasp. She watched as it slithered across the dirt to rest at the Queen’s feet.

The Queen laughed, and it curdled along Clarke’s spine. “What now, Clarke?” The Queen toed the blade and kicked it out of the ring. She stalked across the dirt, licking the blood from her smashed lips. She watched the blonde bitch crouch low and grab her dagger from her belt.

The Queen looked up, her eyes scanning the crowd. She smirked at the anger present in the Skaikru and Trikru faces. She especially enjoyed the fury so clearly etched in Indra’s face. The general had never been particularly good at hiding her emotions. Her eyes sought the one called Abby, and she smirked at the pain in the woman’s eyes.

*******************************

Lexa sat deep in her throne, her legs casually crossed, but her muscles were tight and strained as she warred with herself, fighting the overwhelming need to throw herself into the ring and kill the Ice Bitch herself.

Every time the whip cracked, and she heard Clarke’s muffled cries, she ground her clenched teeth harder. She felt the pain grow in her chest, spasming with each crack of the whip, pulsing and growing with each cry from her Skai Heda. She growled low in her throat as the queen taunted Clarke, and she could feel a presence draw closer to her almost pressed against the side of her throne.

“Ste yuj,” muttered the voice.

Lexa barely moved her head, tilting it up slowly, seeing the warrior from the corner of her eye. Her eyes took in the heavy leather jerkin, the thick hood pulled low over her brow. Lexa could see her braids peeking out from the hood though, brown and red. She saw the faintest hint of a scar on the strong chin.

“Seraf Osa, I did not expect you here,” she murmured. She inched her hand slowly towards her dagger, not sure yet if Seraf was ally or foe.

“I have no love of the Broga,” hissed the Blood Clan warrior, “She dies today, Heda,” murmured the woman as she shifted carefully. “If your Skai Heda is defeated, she still dies. The Blood and Wolf Clans and the Ice Nation have suffered too long under her rule.”

Lexa stared straight ahead, her mind whirling even as she watched Clarke stumble and rally quickly, slicing a shallow cut to the Queen’s arm. “The Ice Nation is part of the Coalition, and the Coalition does not negotiate with rogue warriors, Seraf.” She ground her teeth together as she spit out the words, “Queen Nia is the queen of Ice and Snow and part of the Coalition, and has a right to the protection of the Coalition.” It galled her to say it, but she was bound by her own Coalition.

Lexa heard the quiet chuckle from behind Seraf, and she tensed, her hand falling to her dagger.

“There is no need, Heda. We came in peace.” Lexa relaxed slightly, recognizing the voice.

“Lesben Geschichte, how good of you to show yourself,” she snarked. The Ice Nation warrior chuckled quietly, “Sha, Heda. But Broga was never the rightful Queen.” The woman shifted, her voice hard and cold, “She murdered the first Queen and her children. Then she burned the earth, so the people would have to yield. You were but a babe in your mother’s arms. Your mother knew she was dangerous despite the fact that they had been friends as girls. She dies tonight, Heda.”

Lexa sighed, stealing a quick glance at the second woman who wore a heavy cloak trimmed in fur. Her blonde braids spilled down her back, “You think the Ice Nation will so readily let go of their Queen? You think the Wolves won’t turn on you?”

Lesben barely nodded, “We have enough warriors to neutralize those that would protest the death of the Queen.”

“I can’t protect you from the Coalition, Lesben, but I can give you a head start.” She continued quietly, her voice carrying an edge of warning as she stared pointedly at Seraf, “Do not start a war, Seraf Osa, or I will hunt you down myself.”

“Sha, Heda, Mochof.” The women stepped back, melting into the crowd. But Lexa didn’t relax. She couldn’t. Not only was Clarke fighting for her life, but the band of rogue warriors had finally decided to kill the Queen. It made sense. The queen was not protected by her high, stone walls here. And her strongest general was dead at Indra’s hand. The queen was vulnerable. But Lexa was not ready to start a war.

********************************

The Queen edged her way around the circle, until she was only a few feet from Abby, and she flicked her whip in her direction, not close enough to touch her but close enough to get her attention. She noted how quickly the big boy with the dark shaggy hair thrust himself in front of Abby. She couldn’t help the fleeting admiration though when the woman put her hand on the boy’s arm and pulled him back to her side. The woman refused to look away, meeting her gaze head on. And despite the pain so clearly in her eyes, she didn’t flinch when she gazed steadily at the Queen.

“She may be strong, but she isn’t strong enough,” the Queen bared her teeth at Abby, “She is mine. She is going to bleed. I’m going to rip her flesh from her bones, and then I’m going to grind her beneath my heel, until you are begging me to end her fight.” She laughed when Abby stepped forward, hands balled into fists.

“I will give her back to you, Chansssselor,” she hissed, “one bloody chunk at a time.”

She deliberately turned her back on the woman before she could reply and stepped into the center of the ring. She flicked her whip at Clarke, letting it lick at Clarke’s legs as the blonde scrambled to get out of the way, but every time Clarke tried to approach, she drove her back with a flick of the whip.

She couldn’t help but admire the long tears in the girl’s pants, the blood that seeped through. She would soon tire as she tried to outrun her whip, the loss of blood would slowly weaken her. And then…and then, she would break her, rip her, give her a bloody, screaming death. And then she would challenge Lexa. Her lips curled in delight at the thought of driving the young girl into madness. She truly thought she would have succeeded when she sent Lexa’s whore’s head back in a sack. But Lexa had been stronger than she had anticipated.

She ground her teeth in fury, when she remembered how she had been forced to kneel before the young whelp, been forced to slice open her own palm and bind herself to the coalition. But Lexa was weak. She had heard of Lexa’s betrayal at the mountain, had waited in gleeful anticipation when she heard the rumors of the mad Skai girl who had vowed revenge. And she had stabbed the messenger in the gut with her dagger when he told her that instead of exacting her revenge, the Skai girl had ended up saving Lexa.

And she had begun planning in earnest when Jarvan had brought the news that the girl would be tried for her crimes, and had accepted the Trial by Combat, but had refused all champions. Oh yes, the news had been delicious and had set off tiny thrills of pleasure deep in her belly. And she had fucked Jarvan right there in the great hall, made him bleed and groan for her. She felt her belly tighten at the thought of Jarvan beneath her, taking all of her pain and pleasure. But Jarvan was now dead. But there would be plenty of slaves and lovers in the future when she finally sat on the Throne of Trees.

She smirked as she looked at the blonde, who had already started to lightly pant from the constant running from her whip. She bit her lip. She would have loved the chance to get to know the blonde better. What she wouldn’t have given to make her scream beneath her. She chuckled as she flicked her whip at her again, catching the girl on the arm that she raised to protect her chest. No, she would end this imposter, this WanHeda. She snorted. She would show them who the real WanHeda was, and when she was done; it would be Lexa’s turn.

She would not fail. Before the night ended, she would be seated on the Throne of Trees. She laughed loudly as she swung and cracked the whip, catching the girl in her belly. She laughed even harder when she heard the loud groan that the little bitch couldn’t hold back. She would have her screaming soon enough.

She licked the blood from her lips again, enjoying the tang of iron. Oh she would pay for making her bleed. She stepped back for a moment, allowing the girl to catch her breath. She wanted to enjoy the sounds of the crowd milling, jostling, whispering, some shouting. She breathed in deeply the acrid stench of fear and resentment lingering in the air. She could smell the iron in the girl’s veins, the sweat dripping down pale flesh.

She coiled the whip around her hand, lovingly stroking the worn leather. It had taken her years to break in this whip, until it was supple and worn, but sliced with an edge. She smiled at the thought of all the young, smooth backs she had broken in with her whip. And she remembered one in particular. She let the memory wash over her, the sounds of a different girl screaming as she brought the whip cracking down on the girl’s back, and then her bottom, and her thighs. She had lovingly painted her skin with stripes of oozing red, until she could peel the flesh off with her fingers. And she had. One bloody chunk at a time, she had pulled it off the girl’s slight frame. She had no secrets to spill, but it hadn’t mattered.

And then she remembered that glorious moment when she had taken the bone handle of her whip, and had moved it between the weeping thing’s thighs. She could feel her own moisture grow as she remembered the feel of the blood that had stained her fist as she pushed inside the screaming girl. Her cries of agony had been but tender music to her ears, and her blood had been slick and warm and tasted of thick salty honey.

She giggled to herself at the memory, and she couldn’t help but look up, past the insipid, weak little bitch in the ring, until her eyes clashed with furious green. Oh yes, she could see the fury and pain building in those eyes, and she knew. She knew that Lexa was remembering the same girl.

She flicked her whip again, cracking it hard in the air. She gloried at the way the crowd flinched. It was time to make the girl bleed. And when she was done with her, it would be Lexa’s turn. And she decided then and there to share that last little tidbit of information that Lexa didn’t know. Just as she would run her through with her blade, she would tell her how her little bitch had opened her legs for her, had screamed for her, how her hot, tight, velvety flesh had bled for her, how she had hacked the girl’s head from her shoulders, how she had choked on her own blood. Her death hadn’t been quick or easy. And neither would be Clarke’s.

Clarke stood across the ring, crouched slightly holding her dagger in her left hand. She could feel the blood dripping down her legs, and she tried to ignore the pain. She knew the Queen was playing with her, and the worse was still to come. She knew she had succeeded in making the Queen believe she was entirely inept, even though she had managed to punch the bitch in the face. She shook her head slightly trying to clear the buzzing in her ears. She knew she needed to abandon the jacket. It was hindering her shoulder movements too much, and she knew doing so would only encourage the queen to attack her chest and back. She already had a small bloody furrow across her stomach, but it was just the start.

She eyed the queen carefully, noting that she seemed lost in some distant memory as she gently caressed the leather whip. Clarke suppressed a shudder at the look of winsome delight on the Queen’s face. Her delicate features were stained with blood, but she was still beautiful, and the paradox shook her and made her belly tighten with anxiety. She was staring at the Mad Queen, vicious and calculating, but with an almost child-like fascination with pain.

Clarke grimaced. She needed to get close and kill her. Now. She rose up on the balls of her feet bouncing lightly, her eyes watching the Queen’s every movement, but she refrained from looking at the arm the wielded the whip. She watched the way the Queen’s eyes narrowed, and she was already moving as the queen swung her arm back.

Clarke dodged and slid across the dirt, swiping at the queen’s legs again, gratified when she felt her dagger slice through the woman’s thigh. She threw her weight against the queen, trying to bring her dagger around to stab her in the side, but she queen threw her off, and swung at her face with a fist.

Stars exploded behind Clarke’s eyes, and she realized she had miscalculated. She staggered back, shaking her head trying to clear the black fog encroaching into her vision. She stumbled and let out a cry of pain when she felt the whip crack across her arm. The hooks dug keep into her jacket and she was jerked towards the queen. She was flung into the dirt at the queen’s feet, and as she scrambled back to her feet, she felt a ball of pain smash into her ribs and reverberate out, and she barely bit back the small scream. And then the whip whistled through the air, and she threw up her arms, but it was no use. The forked tongues slashed across her belly, and she couldn’t help the small scream as she felt the rusted metal pieces tear into her flesh.

She managed to roll and the whip caught her on the arm again, splashing onto her back. She felt it dig and shred the jacket. She could barely hear the crowd screaming or hear the queen laughing. Her head was filled with stifling fog, and she couldn’t seem to get to her feet. The dirt and gravel jumped in front of her, and slanted dangerously as she fell back on her side. She shook her head, trying to clear the fog, and she managed to focus just in time to see the queen pull her foot back to land another kick to her aching ribs.

She rolled and just managed to catch the queen’s foot in her hands. She jerked quickly, twisting as she rolled again, but she couldn’t avoid the whip that fell across her back tearing at her jacket. The Queen stood above her punching her in the face with the whip handle. Clarke drew up her knees rolled and stuck out with her left leg to the inside of the queen’s left hip, knocking her on her back and left side. She quickly rolled and slammed her right foot down on to the queen’s right ankle, effectively pinning her as Clarke rolled to her feet, planted her right leg and spun into a kick, her left foot cracking against the queen’s face. She smiled in triumph when the queen hit the dirt with a howl of rage, and she straightened just in time to ready herself and punch the Queen in the chest, sending her flying back into the dirt.

Clarke stood slightly stooped over, her chest heaving as she felt her lungs sting as she sucked in air. She placed one hand on her ribs, wincing at the heat pouring off her ribs. She knew at least one was cracked. She could feel the blood dribbling down her belly, and the flesh was hot and swollen. It wasn’t so much as bloody scrape or furrow, but an actual wound, and she knew it was deep enough that she might actually need stiches. She straightened as best as she could as the queen also managed to get to her feet.

Her dagger that she had worn on her waist was on the other side of the ring. She growled under her breath and quickly tossed off her jacket, throwing it to the side. It was hindering her movements, and she needed to be quicker. She rolled her shoulders back and dropped her left hand, and the poisoned blade slipped into her hand.

The Queen snarled when she saw the dagger slip into Clarke’s hand. She hadn’t realized the girl had two daggers and the short sword. It didn’t matter, the girl was down to one dagger, and it was time to make her bleed.

She reached down and pulled her dagger out of her waist and flipped it in her left hand, the bladed edge pointing at Clarke, for quick slashes. She held the whip in her right hand, and slowly started advancing on Clarke. She whirled the whip over her head cracking it as hard as she could, and she sneered when members of the crowd jumped and pulled back.

Clarke backed up slowly, looking for an opening. Her best chance was when the whip was still in the air, and if she could get into the inside of the queen’s arm, the whip wouldn’t be able to touch her, but she would have to contend with the dagger the queen held.

She watched, ducking slightly and counting the seconds as the queen whirled the whip again around her head, but she missed the beat when she suddenly charged, and the queen cracked the whip down abruptly, and the middle caught Clarke on her shoulder. It jolted her so hard that her momentum faltered, and it was enough time for the queen to strike again, cracking the whip on Clarke’s shoulder again. She felt one of the tongues leap up and scald across her cheekbone, ripping a bloody furrow down her face, just catching the edge of her lip. She could feel her mouth fill with blood, and she spit on the ground even as she was raising her right arm to block the next blow, but the whip rained down upon her, tearing into her flesh.

She hit the dirt on her knees, and the scream that was torn from her chest, as she felt her skin being flayed, was primal and raw. It silenced the crowed who watched in stuptified awe as her shirt darkened with expanding pools of blood. Her mouth was full of blood from the cut on her lip, and from where she had chomped so hard on the inside of her cheeks in a desperate attempt to stifle her screams, and she heaved as she felt the blows land across her back.

She was granted a slight reprieve when the queen stepped back, coiling the whip that was slick with blood. “This is your hero? Your WanHeda?” she shouted to the crowd, her voice jeering and caustic. Her arm ached from wielding the whip, and the bruise had blossomed across her face. She circled Clarke who still knelt in the dirt. She tossed her dagger away. She didn’t need it anymore, and then she viciously stomped on Clarke’s hand that still held her dagger. She laughed when she felt the small bones in her hand shift. She grabbed a handful of Clarke’s hair and then punched her in the side of the face, just catching her eye with the handle of her whip. She laughed when Clarke’s head simply bounced back from the blow.

This miserable bitch was done, and she wanted to savor her victory. She raised her arms in victory, turning slowly and staring at the crowd. She smirked when the Ice Nation warriors started to stamp their feet into the dirt, chanting her name. The Desert Clan warriors soon joined in, there raucous cries reaching a crescendo, and the Blood and Wolf warriors howled and thumped their weapons against their shields.

The blood dripped from Clarke’s open mouth, and one eye was almost swollen shut. She knelt in the dirt, hunched over, her head swimming as her body tried to adjust to the pain. Her heart was slamming against her ribs, and she knew she was in trouble. She smiled bitterly, wincing at the pain that lanced through her lip. She rallied, struggling to her feet, only to hear the whip sing out again, ripping into the side of her hip. She staggered but remained on her feet, only to feel the whip strike again and coil around her arms, effectively pinning them to her sides. She yanked and pulled in horror, the panic setting in. She couldn’t lift her arms, and she was trapped.

She felt the blow coming before she heard it, and then it exploded on her chin, driving her back to her knees. She fell over in the dirt, choking on the dust that seeped into her nostrils. She felt a rough hand grab her by the back of her neck and jerk her back to her knees. She sat back on her heels, trying to focus, but the blood dripped down her face, and her vision swam in front of her.

She breathed deeply, letting it out slowly, trying to calm her mind and center herself like Spira had taught her. She imagined herself in a long hallway with open doors on each side. She stepped down the hallway, carefully, deliberately closing each door as she went. She focused on shutting down the pain centers in her body as she closed each door. She had to drive the pain to the back of her mind, shut it down, so she could focus enough to kill Nia. She ignored the words pouring from the queen’s traitorous mouth, instead letting her other senses take over as she could feel the air around her being displaced with every movement by Nia.

Nia raised her hand and the crowd slowly quieted. She turned and faced Lexa, “This is your pitiful bitch, kneeling in front of me.” She reached down and jerked Clarke’s head up again, so Lexa could see her more clearly. “See, this is your strength, Heda,” she hissed, “you are only as strong as your weakest warrior, and this is your weakest. She is your weakness.” She reached down and gently caressed the side of Clarke’s unmarred face with the coiled whip.

She smirked at the slight shiver that ran through Clarke’s wilting frame. She chuckled darkly and leaned down, jerking Clarke’s head back hard. She ran her tongue along the bloody furrow on her cheek, and pulled back in time to see the disgust and fury on Lexa’s face.

“Oh my, Heda, she does taste sweet. Too bad I won’t get the chance to sample her more fully,” she laughed when she saw Lexa’s arms tighten on the arms of her throne. “Yes, it is a shame, I won’t get to sample all of her, much like I did your other whore.” She chuckled and stared at Lexa, daring her to take the bait.

But the only sound was Clarke’s heavy panting, the slightly murmurs of the crowd, and then the sound of a sword slicking out of its scabbard. Nia slowly turned her head, tilting it towards the sound. She tittered darkly when she saw Fen Dal trying to shove past Mordecai, her sword in hand. But Mordecai and Indra were both blocking her, and Mordecai worried she would have to hit her again to knock her out.

“Well, well, well. What have we here? Is it who I think it is?” Nia let go of her grip on Clarke’s hair, and let her hand gently encircle the back of the girl’s neck, only to then drag her nails down the side of her neck. She relished the feel of the blood welling and then bursting through the surface of her skin. But the girl didn’t flinch, and she frowned. It didn’t matter, she would soon be dead anyway.

She turned her attention back to Fen Dal, who continued to struggle against Indra and Mordecai’s hold. “If it isn’t the first Jusgona. The first that swore a blood oath to the craven Heda,” she hesitated a moment tapping her chin thoughtfully, she smirked again, her lips twisting into a snarl, “Ah yes, wasn’t that little bitch of mine your sister?” She laughed as Fen Dal snarled in rage and threw herself against Mordecai.

Mordecai grabbed her by her face and pressed her lips to her ear, “Stop, Fen Dal. You are giving her what she wants. You are stronger than her. Do not let her see you break.” And Fen Dal hesitated, her arm shaking that still held her sword. She panted harshly in Mordecai’s neck and shook her head.

“But…Costia,” she choked out, “She took Costia and now she is going to take Clarke.”

Mordecai held her firmly and whispered again, “No, you trained her well. Have faith, Fen Dal kom Trikru, you were always the Primary Jusgona. Prove it now.” Mordecai waited for a beat then two, and felt the whoosh of air against her neck, and felt Fen Dal nod once. And just as Mordecai started to pull back, she felt the brush of slightly puckered lips across her neck, and she almost faltered. But she eased back slowly and to Fen Dal’s side. Indra stepped back, her hand still on the pommel of her sword.

Nia’s lips curled when she saw that Fen Dal had managed to regain her composer, “You are Natrona, Nonkru. You are a traitor, stripped of your rank, your family, your kin.” Nia smiled, almost gently at Fen Dal like a mother to her precocious child. Nia pointed to Lexa, “She is weak, Fen Dal, she would not give you your vengeance that was due you. She wouldn’t even fight for the little bitch.” Her lips twisted, “I would have given you your vengeance, Fen Dal. I would have paid you what you were due. It was Lexa who did not come for Costia, it was she who let her die in our war. You hate the wrong person, Fen Dal.”

Fen Dal stood there smelling the dust that hung in the air, the sweat of hundreds of milling bodies, the blood seeping into the dirt. She could smell the slight breeze whispering through the trees. She breathed deeply and smiled, “It is time for you to die, Broga.” And she nodded to the Queen’s feet.

Nia’s face twisted and the smile died on her lips as she stared at Fen Dal. She glanced down towards her feet, her words already forming the “Wha…” only to be cut off in a ragged scream as she felt the blade slice through her Achilles tendon, and then slice through her hamstring. She fell to the dirt with a thump, scrambling madly, trying to back away as she saw Clarke rise up and start to shake the coils of the whip from her arms. In her right hand was a bloody dagger.

“H-how?” screamed the Queen as Clarke advanced on her slowly, as she tried to flick the whip at Clarke. But Clarke caught the tongues in her hand, ignoring the pain that sliced into her palm. She jerked with all her might and the whip was ripped from the Queen’s hand.

“Did you only think I could wield a blade with my left hand?” Clarke studied the Queen for a moment as she stepped closer to her. She raised the blade so the queen could see it, “This blade was forged in poison by Raven, Master of the Blades, in Polis. It matters not if I strike you again. The poison will kill you eventually. It will slither through your veins, burning a path to your heart.” Clarke felt a coldness settle in her chest as she stared at the woman at her feet, her face twisted in hatred, her eyes burning with a cold madness.

She stepped away, feeling the pain of her many wounds. She could barely make out the crowd, their faces swam in a blur, but she stared at Lexa, because that was all that mattered. Nothing else. No one else. Just Lexa. She saw the slight movement of Lexa’s right hand, and she couldn’t help the small smile that slipped across her bloodied face. Lexa barely opened her hand, but it was enough to see the little doll nestled in the palm of her hand.

The Elder Maestra stepped forward into the ring followed by Drago Cil. “This Trial by Combat is over, the Skai Heda has won her victory.” She gestured to priestess, “Do it.”

Drago Cil reached under her robe and pulled out a dagger. The handle was smooth and simple, made out of wood. But the blade was almost translucent, with dips and ridges and curves as if it had been carved out of stone, and made with stone tools.

Drago Cil held out the blade to Clarke and raised her voice so the crowd could hear her, not that it mattered, for no one made a sound; “This is the end of the reign of Nia, the Queen of Ice and Snow. She has lost this Trial by Combat, and her life is forfeit.” She gestured to Clarke and gave her a solemn nod, “Take it Skai Heda, and end her fight.”

Clarke carefully took the blade stepped back and grabbed the queen by the hair, dragging her to her knees. She hesitated, wondering if she could do it. The queen was defenseless, her blood pouring from the deep wounds on her leg. The poison was already starting to make its way through the woman, as she twitched and groaned in pain. Her muscles shook, and Clarke could see the blood dripping from her mouth where she had bit her tongue as she started to lose control of her muscles.

She stepped behind her, placing the dagger at her throat. She could feel the woman swallow harshly against the blade, and the woman muttered something unintelligible. Clarke bent down low so she could hear the scratchy words.

“Do it, end my fight.” The queen’s voice grated harshly, and she could feel her throat start to tighten. She knew she would soon piss her pants and her bowels would release, as she continued to lose all muscle function. She would die writhing in her own filth. She was a Queen, but she would die as an animal if the Skai Heda didn’t end her fight.

“Do it, Skai Heda,” she whispered as she grit her teeth, “End my fight,” she choked on the blood in her mouth, and Clarke bent closer to hear her final words, “Pro-promise me…you will burn my body and Jarvan’s. D-do this,” she grit out, “so we can have peace.”

Clarke felt the cold hollow in her chest shrink a bit, and she pressed her lips to the dying queen’s ear, “I promise.”

She glanced up and stared at Lexa and Fen Dal who now stood next to the throne. She nodded and mouthed the words “For Costia,” and she waited for just a moment until Lexa nodded and Fen Dal’s shoulders sagged.

“Yu gonplei ste odon,” and she drew the stone blade deeply across the queen’s neck. She felt the warm blood splash across her hand, and she gently lowered her body to the ground. She might have been a mad queen, and Lexa’s greatest enemy, but she couldn’t bring herself to dishonor the woman who had been a great warrior.

She stood, swaying on her feet, blood coating her hands. She could feel the blood drying on her face, pulling at her flesh. The crowd swam in front of her, and she could vaguely hear chanting and the stomping of feet. She swung her head around woozily, sure she could hear someone calling her name. She took a step and the world tilted and the crowd fell down, tipped on to their side. She groaned and dropped the blade. She felt her knees buckling, and the blackness seeping into her vision, and just before the blackness overtook her, and she started to fall, she saw a flash of deep, beautiful green.

Strong arms caught her as she fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thoughts? Yes? No? Did it suck? Damn, it might have sucked. If it sucks, I will write another chapter of sex. 
> 
> New Cameos: Seraf Osa = Serafaerosa and Lesben Geschichte = LesbianStorys.


	41. Abide With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy. Two new cameos. See notes at the end. Thank you.

She staggered under her sudden weight when she caught Clarke as she fell. She felt her heart slam in her chest, and she bit her tongue hard in an effort not to reveal too much, but she could feel the icy fear spreading through her chest, stealing what little breath she had left. Her head swam, and she grit her teeth as she locked her knees in place and managed to scoop Clarke up in her arms. She knew it might be seen as weakness for her to hold the blonde so tenderly in her arms, but she was beyond caring. She could feel Clarke’s blood soaking through her clothing, and she wanted to scream in rage. The Queen had already taken one love from her, and she refused to allow her to take Clarke also.

“Heda, beja let me,” Ryder held out his arms, and he knew she was going to resist. He bowed his head and murmured for her ears alone, “Beja, Heda, it would be my honor. Let me do this for you, please.” He waited quietly, his arms held out under hers, and he could see the pain swimming in her wet eyes, and he breathed a gentle sight of relief when she finally, reluctantly nodded and passed Clarke into his arms.

“Take her to my tent,” she muttered, not caring what it might look like to the clan leaders.

Lexa felt her eyes burn, and she let her hand linger on Clarke’s face for a moment as Ryder held her gently in his arms. She wasn’t done here, she knew she couldn’t leave yet, and she felt the ice in her chest burn and harden into a cold bitter snow that blanketed every part of her. She jerkily nodded her head at him and stepped aside, grabbing Mordecai’s arm as the gona stepped closer to her.

“Take Fen Dal and go to my tent. Find Malachi. Tell him I want his best archers in the trees around my tent. Stay inside the tent. You know who to allow in and who not.”

Mordecai nodded quickly, and turned back to gesture for Fen Dal to follow her. But she stopped when Fen Dal stopped and stood in front of Lexa.

Fen Dal’s head was swimming, and she was having trouble focusing on Lexa’s face, but she could tell it was stoic and calm as ever. But the twitch at the corner of her mouth, the sharp line of her jaw gave away her anxiety. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, wondering why it was that she could suddenly see so clearly despite the thumping pain in her head.

“Lex-Lex, I…” her voice trailed off, and she swallowed hard, suddenly so incredibly tired of being at war with Lexa, even if the war had only been in her own tormented mind. She didn’t know if she could ever bring herself to forgive Lexa for not going after Costia, for not seeking revenge upon the Queen; but suddenly it really didn’t matter anymore. The Queen was dead, and Fen Dal realized with an aching loneliness that all she wanted was to serve her people again. She had been stripped of everything, and she found she couldn’t quite hate Lexa with the same passion as before.

Lexa stared at her once oldest friend and greatest general. Fen Dal had always been able to read her, had always known her thoughts almost before she herself did. Some of the hardest lessons she had ever learned in leadership had been at her hand, and she had learned them so well that when Fen Dal had turned rogue; it had been up to her to put her down.

But she had known Fen Dal, and she knew now what she couldn’t seem to say, so she nodded stiffly and then looked slightly behind Fen Dal. “I need you,” she muttered, “I need you to be strong. To be whole. I need you to protect Clarke, Fen Dal. Even from me if necessary.” She knew what she was asking, and when Fen Dal slowly straightened and then bowed her head, the relief burned through her nerves, and she nodded back.

“Sha, Heda. With my life.”

Fen Dal stepped up next to Mordecai and together they quickly made their way to Heda’s tent. Mordecai watched Fen Dal out of the corner of her eye, slightly amazed at the sudden change in Fen Dal. Gone was the wild terror in her eyes, and she held her head a little higher, and walked with purpose. A small smile twitched at the corner of Mordecai’s mouth. This was a Fen Dal she could get used to.

Lexa slowly turned back to the crowd, and then strode into the circle. She walked up to the dead Queen’s body, eying it distastefully. She nudged her shoulder lightly with the toe of her boot, resisting the urge to kick at the body in anger. She bent down, reaching for the necklace that the Queen wore around her neck. It had been passed down from one Queen to the next, and now as her fingers curled around the cold chains, she couldn’t help but murmur for the dead woman’s spirit, “You have lost, Broga. Your line ends with you, and I will feed you to the dogs, so you will wander forever, never finding peace.”

She pulled hard on the chain, and then rose to her feet holding it in her hand. She glanced around at the clan leaders and the people, her people and she raised her voice to be heard by all, “The line of Broga Nia, of the Queen of Ice and Snow dies here with her.” She clenched her fist harder around the chain, feeling it bite into her palm, “The Ice Nation will bend its knee willingly or at the end of my sword,” she glared at the few Ice Nation generals in attendance, “It is your choice. You may choose your next leader, but they will be approved by the coalition.”

And with that she turned on her heel ignoring the immediate clamoring of dozens of voices, some raised in anger, others cheering. She shoved the necklace into her coat, ready to be done with it all, but there was one thing left. She didn’t even bother to stop or turn, but threw over her shoulder, “Take her body and that of her lover and drag them to the pits. Let the carrion feast on their flesh.”

She shoved past her guards, ignoring the yelling behind her as the Ice Nation protested the treatment of their Queen’s body. “Heda, do you think it wise to…”

“Enough, Indra. The Queen does not deserve to burn so her soul may be released. Let her walk in torment for eternity,” she snarled.

Indra glanced at Kellan who had fallen into step with them. “Heda, I have sent the Trikova to stand watch. She will keep your Queen safe.” Lexa could only nod, no longer wanting to speak. She simply wanted to get to her tent immediately to see how Clarke was, to see if she had awoken yet.

“Heda.”

She wanted to growl in fury as yet another voice stopped her, but she couldn’t ignore this voice, not after the Fae D’Etat Lowiiie had publicly sided with the Skaikru and the Trikru. She nodded and slowed her steps slightly, but still pushed on toward her tent.

“Fae D’Etat,” she murmured and nodded in her direction.

“I have heard things.”

And this time Lexa came to a halt, her stomach twisting. She turned slowly to face the older woman. She jerked her head for her guards to leave, and once they had backed up, maintain a loose circle around them, she nodded for Lowiiie to continue.

“There are mutterings against some of the clan leaders. It is rumored that the Rogues have made an appearance. Your old friends, Seraf Osa and Lesben, to be exact.” Lowiiie waited for Lexa to reply, but when she maintained her silence, Lowiiie nodded ever so slightly, “I see. But any move against the Ice Nation is a move against the Coalition. Beware, Heda. The Coalition is not as strong as it once was. There are those who say you are weak.”

Lexa ground her teeth together, and in a deadly calm voice she replied, “Those who think me weak are fools, and they will feel just how weak I am at the edge of my blade.”

Lowiiie stared thoughtfully at Lexa for a long moment before seeming to reach a conclusion. She nodded and a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. “She was right, you know,” she murmured with a small smile, “she saw greatness in you all those years ago when you came to see me. She told me that you were a visionary that you would succeed where others had failed.” Lowiiie shook her head for a moment, her brow furrowed as she looked out over the crowd of people. “But…she said a Queen would be your undoing,” she muttered as she finally looked back at Lexa.

“Who said it?”

“Toric Dren.” Lowiiie smiled softly, “she was gifted even as a child. She could question and understand people before they understood themselves.” She chuckled and waved her hand dismissively, “Toric could always see into people, see their hearts, their motives. But whether or not she was right…that was never established.”

“I don’t understand,” Lexa’s voice faltered briefly. She had never been sure if she should believe Toric’s powers, but she couldn’t deny that the Elder Maestra had powers as did Peregrine. She shrugged, “The Queen is dead.”

“Ah yes. But Toric also said a new Queen would rise.” Lowiiie stared hard at Lexa for a moment, “The question is, which Queen did Toric refer to all those years ago? Which queen would be Heda’s undoing?” She nodded and then reached out clasping Lexa’s arm, “By your leave, Heda, my warriors and I will travel with you to Polis. You have but to call on us,” she jerked her head towards Kellan, “She is my most trusted General, as you know. She is the face of the Stone Clan, and has served me well in all of our dealings with the clans. She will continue to serve you well, Heda.”

Lexa nodded, trying to quell the discomfort that Lowiiie’s words had caused. “Mochof, Fae D’Etat. I would appreciate it if your warriors would keep an eye on the Skaikru. And as for the rogues. They will be dealt with if apprehended.”

Lowiiie smirked quietly, “And if they aren’t apprehended…well Heda and the Clans have more important things to do than to worry about a couple of Rogues.”

**********************

Lexa finally made her way into her tent, barely nodding at those present. She stripped off her gloves and sword, wordlessly handing them to Indra before she approached the bed. Her breath caught in her throat, and tears stung her eyes.

Clarke lay on the furs of Lexa’s bed. She’d been stripped of her clothing and soft cloth had been laid across her breasts and chest so that Abby and Nyko could tend her wounds. Lexa hadn’t realized that Clarke could actually be any paler than she already was, and her breath caught in her throat, and she couldn’t hide the tremble in her hand as she gently reached out and touched Clarke’s warm cheek with just the tip of her finger tips. Clarke’s breathing was shallow and irregular, and Lexa could plainly see the worry on Abby’s face.

“Abby?” she whispered, watching as Abby was frantically trying to stem the flow of blood from the gashes on Clarke’s thighs, while Nyko kept swapping out clean cloth on the gash on her stomach. “What is happening?” She might not have been a healer, but even she could tell something was very wrong. The cuts had been deep, but this…this was too much blood.

“I…I don’t know, Lexa. Her blood. It isn’t clotting!” Abby’s voice rose with each word, and she could barely maintain her focus, as she stared down at her daughter, watching in quiet horror as the cloth turned blotchy red in just a few moments, and then stained her already red hands. Her daughter’s very life was slipping through her fingers, and she didn’t have the medical equipment or even a clotting agent to help.

Indra turned and motioned for Octavia and Ryder to follow her, and with a few whispered words they strode through camp as quickly as possible, without trying to gain any attention. Indra’s eyes never stopped as they flitted through the various faces of the crowd. She was here. She knew she was here. She went everywhere with the Queen. She grabbed a young Ice Nation Seken, and with one snarl from Octavia, he gave up the location.

Lexa sat down on the edge of the bed, her heart fluttering madly in her chest. She felt like she was slowly suffocating, drowning in the fear that permeated the tent. She was afraid. Terrified. Helpless. This was an enemy that she wasn’t sure she could defeat. She gently slid her palm under Clarke’s, wincing at how cold it felt. She interlaced their fingers together, praying to gods that she no longer believed in that they would spare her.

“Jusrun.” She muttered quietly, recognizing the endless trickles of blood for what they were. And the smothering cold in her chest grew and grew, until she was convinced that she could hear her bones begin to fracture and break and in the cold of her chest.

“Jusrun? What is that?” Abby looked up anxiously from where she was still trying to stem the trickles of blood. “Lexa? Lexa!” Abby glared hotly at the brunette, who chose to ignore her. She looked at Nyko, recognizing all too clearly the way his hands had twitched to a stop, the way his shoulders fell, the way he wouldn’t meet her eye.

“What is Jusrun!” Abby glared at Nyko, demanding he speak to her, and when he finally did; she almost wished he hadn’t.

“It is a plant. It grows in the northern most parts of the Ice Nation territory. It is rare,” he muttered, as he slowly stood up from where he had been bent over Clarke. “Heda, do we have any…”

“No.”

He knew the answer before he’d even asked, but he still had to ask. He shook his head slightly when Abby stared at him, tears filling her eyes. “I don’t understand, Nyko. We can’t simply give up! I won’t allow it!”

Nyko rubbed at his forehead, disregarding the blood staining his hands. He grabbed a few more bandages, and pressed them to her wounds, knowing it wouldn’t do any good; but he had to do something. He owed Abby the chance to fight for her daughter.

“It is a poison. It makes the blood run until the person bleeds to death.” Lexa started down at their hands, gently caressing the soft skin of Clarke’s hand. She didn’t bother to look at Abby when she had mentioned the poison. She wasn’t prepared to see the anguish and anger in the other woman’s eyes.

“If it is a poison, then there must be an antidote!” Raven shoved forward, eyes burning hotly, her words snapping in the air. “Tell me what is it, and I will find it or make it!”

“The antidote is even rarer than the poison. We don’t have any. It was one of the reasons why we needed to bring the Ice Nation into the coalition, so we would have access to the poison, but mainly to have access to the antidote. We don’t have any right now. It was one of the recent sources of contention.” Lexa finally looked up, her gaze betraying none of her inner turmoil, none of her guilt. The Ice Nation had declared Lexa weak once the mountain had been burned; and they had ceased all trading with Polis. There was no antidote, and Lexa had brought this upon herself. Upon Clarke.

Abby sagged against the bed, feeling her hope wither and die. She almost wanted to laugh. After everything that her child had suffered and sacrificed, and just when she was finally going to win, going to finally have a future, a chance at a better life…this. This.

“Cauterize. We will cauterize every wound.” She pushed up from the bed. Yes. Yes, this would work. They would seal all the wounds. Burn them. She would scar horribly, but at least she would be alive. This would work.

“She is bleeding inside.” The words were barely whispered, but they clanged heavily in the air, like a death knell.

Abby stared in disbelief at Lexa and then looked back down at Clarke’s pale form. There was so much blood staining her torso that Abby couldn’t tell if she was bleeding inside. She grabbed more bandages, shoving some into Nyko’s hands muttering hoarsely, “Wipe off the blood as much as you can, I have to see if she’s bleeding internally.”

She wiped away as much blood as possible, and then she gently lifted Clarke enough to roll her partially on her side, and she felt the air leave her lungs in wicked rush, only to be replaced by frigid fear. Her kidneys were bruised, and even as she stared, she could see that the bruising was blood, and soon her entire back would be purple and blue from the blood. She gently laid Clarke back down. Her hands trembling.

“Kane, I need IVs and blood,” she gestured towards her medical bag, “there are testing strips in there. I need a universal donor.” She swallowed hard. “Multiple. I need as many donors as possible.”

Kane grabbed the medical bag, quickly pulling out IVs and handing them to Abby. He grabbed a handful of testing strips and then turned to Lexa, “Commander, I need to test your people to find a match for Clarke…”

Lexa nodded, gesturing for him to go. She had learned enough about IVs and blood donation to know that it could help Clarke, but she knew that her people would still be wary of giving blood. It was too reminiscent of the Mountain, but she had faith that her Trikru would at least be willing to be tested.

But just as Kane was about to exit the tent, the flaps were flung open and Indra and Octavia pushed their way through, a third person between them. Octavia had her hand firmly wrapped around the woman’s bicep, and with little ceremony she shoved her into the inner room of Lexa’s tent.

Lexa was on her feet in a second, hand on her dagger, lips pulled back in a snarl. “What is the meaning of this, Indra?” She glared at the woman who stood next to Octavia, recognizing her instantly. She breathed harshly through her nose, trying to regain control of her emotions.

“She has the antidote, Heda, and the knowledge necessary to save Clarke,” Indra replied as Octavia pushed the woman slightly towards Lexa. Indra continued, “She is necessary, Heda. It isn’t simply about the antidote,” she bowed her head respectfully, wondering if Lexa would be willing to see beyond the past in order to save Clarke.

“You,” spat Lexa as she stepped toward the woman, her gaze skimming across the two horizontal blue tattoos that ran from her brow down over her eye to her chin: two lines on each side of her face. Her eyes flickered to what appeared to be fresh scars running down the woman’s arms. Life had not been kind to her. It never was, when one was a slave to the Broga. “I should kill you where you stand,” snarled Lexa, as she clenched her fist around her dagger, barely refraining from burying it in the woman’s chest.

“Wait!” yelled Abby, as she quickly made her way to Lexa’s side. “Can she save Clarke?” She stared anxiously at Lexa and then at the woman who had yet to speak, but simply stood there, head bowed slightly.

When it was clear that Lexa wasn’t going to answer, Abby turned to the woman, “Can you save, my daughter? Do you have the antidote?” She reached out and grasped the woman’s forearm, recognizing the woman’s flinch for what it was, but too distracted to give it much thought.

The woman carefully raised her eyes to Abby’s and then slowly nodded, “Sha. I can save her.” She carefully reached up and pulled the leather satchel from around her shoulder and held it out to Abby, “The antidote is here, along with the burning powder. Nyko knows how to administer the antidote. The burning powder…” her voice trailed off as she carefully looked at Lexa, who had focused her attention on Clarke.

Lexa stared unblinkingly at Clarke, the coldness in her chest making every breath painful. She could see how matted and dark the furs were beneath Clarke. She had lost so much blood already, but she knew she had no choice but to trust this woman. This woman.

She felt the anger coil through her belly as she finally looked at her again. Indigo Skai, the Broga’s personal Fisa, the woman who was trained in both the art of torture and pain and healing. It was this woman who had stitched Costia back together, who had brought her back from the brink of death so many times, just so the Broga could torture her again. She had prolonged Costia’s suffering at the Broga’s hands. Rationally, Lexa knew that Indigo had had little choice in the matter. The woman was a slave, who had born much pain at Broga’s hands. Her body was littered in scars, old and fresh.

Lexa pulled out her dagger and held it to Indigo’s throat, carefully searching the woman’s deep, royal blue eyes, attempting to ferret out any deceit, any malice. But she was simply met with the calm assurance of one who has accepted their lot in life, made peace with their sins.

“If you hurt her, if she dies, you will beg me for death; and I will not grant it. Do you understand me?”

Indigo bowed her head slightly, “Sha, Heda. My life is yours. I will save her.”

“Then begin.”

******************************

Lexa sat on her throne, trying to concentrate on the bickering voices that filled the temporary tent that she’d had set up, since Clarke and the healers were in her own tent. When more than one clan leader had raised their eyebrow in consternation that Lexa had given up her tent, they had been met with fierce glares from Indra and Octavia, and the pointed blade of Fen Dal; and they had wisely backed down.

Lexa pulled the necklace out from the inside of her pocket and held it in her hands, running her thumbs across the smooth metal. The necklace had been passed from ruler to heir for multiple generations, but Lexa knew that no one had passed this particular necklace to Broga. No, the woman had seized it from the cold neck of the Queen she’d killed, and then proclaimed herself Queen years ago. Rightfully, the necklace and throne belonged to a different Queen.

“Are there any left in the line of the Murdered Queen?”

The voices trailed off as all looked to Lexa and then to each other. They shifted in the tent, looking furtively at each other, mumbling under their breath; until one finally stepped forward.

“All of the Murdered Queen’s children were slain with her, Heda, but...” his voice trailed off.

Lexa stared at the tall, slim young man with shaggy black hair. He was deeply tanned with long sinewy muscles, and he had a quiet manner about him. She quickly placed him as the new Island Clan Ambassador that had succeeded his older brother, after he succumbed unexpectedly to sickness. If she remembered correctly, he was a fisherman and boat pilot, with a knack for diplomacy.

“Ambassador Gata, what do you know of the Murdered Queen’s line?” She gestured him forward, pleased when he gave her a respectful nod, but still met her gaze evenly.

“Her children all died with her, but she had a niece, Heda. The Broga claimed that the niece was dead, but a body was never recovered. There were rumors that the niece might have taken refuge with the Rogues,” he hesitated again, licking his lip before continuing, “but there were rumors that she went to the land beyond the sands.”

Lexa couldn’t hide her slight shock at his news. She drummed her fingers on the arm of her throne and stared thoughtfully at Gata. “And what of Broga’s line? Is there anyone left?” She already knew the answer, but wondered just how much he knew.

Ambassador Gata inclined his head, “Echo. She is the Broga’s niece. Her mother was the Broga’s older sister.” He grimaced and continued, “The Broga had her murdered when Echo was young. Whether or not Echo is loyal to the Broga…” his voice trailed off, and he shrugged.

“And the Murdered Queen’s niece? What was her name?”

“Ontari.”

Lexa stared carefully at Gata, her mind whirling. He seemed to know far more about the Ice Nation than she would have thought, since the two clans weren’t allied and never had been. “Tell me, Ambassador Gata, how is it that you have so much knowledge regarding these matters. You were a fisherman, a boat pilot, not one involved in political maneuverings and intrigue.”

Gata inclined his head, pushing the dark curls off his forehead, “Sha, Heda. I know because Ontari’s Nontu was the younger brother of the Murdered Queen. After the Broga murdered the Queen and her children, Ontari’s Nontu fled with her to our clan. Ontari was only a few months old, and her Nomon had ties to the River Clan.”

“And what of the mother?”

“She had died giving Ontari life, and Ontari’s Nontu knew that the Broga would hunt her down.” He shifted awkwardly for a moment and coughed lightly before giving Heda a weak smile, “Ontari was my playmate. We grew up together, but she disappeared when she was ten years old.” He hesitated for a moment before whispering softly, “Echo knew Ontari. She came and visited Ontari before she disappeared.”

Lexa nodded thoughtfully, “I see,” she turned back to the other clan leaders. “Does anyone know where Echo is now? What happened to her after she was released from the Mountain?” When no one replied, and she saw more than a few shrugs, she nodded again before turning to Ryder, “Send out Scouts. Find me Echo, and see if you can track down any more information about Ontari.”

“The rest of you are dismissed for now.” She waved them out, not bothering to watch as they filed out one by one. She leaned back in her throne, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. She tried to ignore the nausea in her belly, the ache in her chest. She hadn’t heard any word about Clarke, and it had been hours. She grit her teeth, wanting nothing more than to leave and make her way back to Clarke. She had loathed every moment she had been a part from her, but she’d had to deal with the clan representatives. With the Broga dead, the balance of power in the North had been upset, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before the Ice Nation was fighting amongst itself, and probably also trying to fight off the Wolf and Blood clans who would be circling soon, if not already.

She sighed in annoyance and opened her eyes when she heard the flap to her tent open and then close. She looked up as Mordecai walked towards her. She sat up straighter, the eagerness clearly stamped across her face.

“How is she?” she asked breathlessly, before Mordecai even had a chance to halt her stride. Her fingers twitched on the arms of her throne, and she almost yelled for Mordecai to speak quickly.

“She is awake, Heda. The bleeding has been stopped. Indigo Skai burned the wounds with the powder, to close them.” Mordecai eyed Lexa carefully, not entirely sure how she would receive what she would say next, “If it hadn’t been for Indigo, she would have died, even with the antidote. The powder closed the wounds almost seamlessly, and helped stopped the internal bleeding.” She straightened under Lexa’s heavy glare, staring straight ahead, just past Lexa’s right shoulder.

Lexa knew what Mordecai was doing, what she was implying, and she clenched her fists; knowing the warrior was probably right; but not willing to concede. “Any other news?”

“The Ice Nation warriors and generals have retreated to the outskirts. The Wolf and Blood clans have also, but they don’t appear to be interacting with the Ice Nation. I think the Wolf and Blood may ally themselves against the Ice Nation.”

Lexa nodded thoughtfully. It was what she had expected. “Send out Scouts to keep an eye on all three clans. Ask Kellan for some of her rangers,” she waved her hand to towards the front of the tent, clearly dismissing Mordecai. She didn’t bother to look up when Mordecai left.

Indigo. Indigo Skai. Gifted Fisa. Instrument of Torture. She ground her teeth together. She would worry about Indigo another day. Now, she needed to see Clarke.

**************************

She slipped into her tent, nodding at Raven and Bellamy who sat in the outer room, quietly eating. She entered the smaller room and nodded to Abby and Kane who both sat watch next to Clarke’s bed. “H-how is she?” she whispered as she stared down into Clarke’s sleeping face. She was relieved to see that she wasn’t quite as pale as before, and as she gently rand her knuckles down the side of Clarke’s face, she smiled when she felt the warmth of her skin.

“She will make it,” Abby choked on her tears, and leaned gently into Kane’s solid form when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “the bleeding has stopped, and Indigo sealed the wounds,” she shook her head in quiet disbelief, “the woman is gifted. Without her…” she let the tears drip down her cheeks, still unable to shake the feeling of absolute fear when she realized that she might not be able to save her daughters. She took a deep breath, “she was given blood, but she will need more tomorrow, just to be sure.”

Lexa looked up and nodded, “whose blood?”

Abby chuckled, “Indra’s. She was the first to volunteer, and she made it quite clear that all Trikru would be tested.”

Lexa bit back a smile. She knew Indra would probably be mortified if Lexa knew that she had so willingly stepped forward to save the troublesome Skai Girl. She would keep Indra’s secret. For now. She stared at Abby and Kane for a moment and then down at Clarke, but finally decided that she didn’t care, if it made her look weak; and she carefully sat down on the edge of the bed, her hand hovering over the fur that covered Clarke’s torso. She swallowed. She needed to see for herself. She needed to see with her own eyes that Clarke was safe, that the bleeding had stopped, that she wouldn’t lose Clarke.

Kane could see the indecision on Lexa’s face, the way her hand trembled. He pressed a kiss into Abby’s hair and then stood up, “Come, Abby. You need to eat,” he gently pulled her to her feet, ignoring her quiet protests, “You won’t do Clarke any good, if you are sick. Besides,” and he nodded towards Lexa, “she is safe here. She’s in good hands.” He smiled down at Abby who looked up at him and then at Lexa and then back up to his gentle, smiling face.

She nodded. She had always known that someday she would have to let Clarke go, and as she gazed at Lexa’s profile, she could clearly see the wealth of love that this woman, who carried the weight of a civilization on her shoulders, felt for her daughter.

“We will be back later, Commander.” But Lexa didn’t even acknowledge that she heard, and Abby wasn’t even sure she had, so caught up in Clarke was the Commander. She sighed and walked out quietly with Kane, leaving the two young women alone.

Lexa stared at Clarke for long moments, just drinking in the site of the blonde. She was breathing deeply and quietly, and Abby had told her she’d been given some herbs for the pain. She gently drew the fur down, and stared at the thick bandages along her stomach and thighs. There were small bandages on her legs and arms, and Lexa was relieved to see that there wasn’t any red seeping through the white cloths.

She pulled the fur back up, and gently tucked it around Clarke. She leaned down and pressed her lips against Clarke’s forehead, just letting her lips rest there, not ready to pull back. But after a moment, she did, sighing deeply. She stood and shrugged out of her coat. She let it drop carelessly by the side of the bed, not caring that it was in a heap. She sat down on the floor, leaning her back against the side of the bed. She tilted her head back to rest on the bed, and she could just barely feel Clarke’s fingers against her hair.

She sat there with her knees drawn up, her arms resting atop her knees, replaying the events of the day in her mind. She didn’t notice the tear that dripped down her cheek, and she ignored the burn in her throat. She dropped her head onto the cradle of her arms, and she didn’t bother to repress the silent sobs that shook her shoulders.

But after a few moments, she managed to draw in shaky breath and looked up. Her gaze fell on her coat, and she reached out snagging it with one hand. She fished around in the inside pocket, and once her fingers closed around the object, she pulled it out and tossed her coat aside.

She stared at the tiny doll nestled in the palm of her hand. She frowned for a moment when she noticed that it seemed a little duller than normal, the wood a little smoother along the edges. But then she smiled and shook her head, realizing that the countless hours she’d spent fiddling with the doll had slowly worn away some of the dye and smoothed out some of the rougher edges. She gently traced the dull features. It was still her Clarke.

She kissed it lightly, just as she had so many times before. She leaned her head back against the bed again, letting her eyes drift shut. It was quiet. The solitude of the small room only broken by Clarke’s soft breathing. Lexa smiled a little when she realized she’d been holding her breathe. She let it out in a tired rush. She grimaced, remembering that it wasn’t too long ago, that she and Clarke had found themselves in this position, but reversed. Now it was her turn to wait and pray.

“I’m sorry, Klark,” she whispered, eyes still closed. “I’m sorry, that I couldn’t have spared you this, that I couldn’t find a better means of…” she swallowed hard, feeling the tears sting her eyes again. “I wanted so much more than pain and death for you, Klark. It’s why I wanted you to come to Polis with me, so I could show you that there was more to life than what you’d seen of earth. That there was more to my people than just blood and war. More to me.” She finished quietly. She sighed deeply, feeling the ache down to her bones.

“Branwada,” and Lexa felt fingers scrape the top of her head, and her breath caught in her throat as she quickly heaved herself and spun around, on her knees to face Clarke.

“Klark?” she whispered, the tears running down her cheek this time, as she stared in stunned hope at blue eyes dulled with pain. She tentatively reached for Clarke’s hand, smiling when she felt the blonde curl her fingers with her own.

“I know there is more to you than war and blood, Leska,” Clarke sighed tiredly, her eyes fluttering closed. Despite the herbs, she could feel every cut on her body. They all burned, and she licked her dry lips, suddenly aware of just how thirsty she was. And her eyes flew open when she felt the cool, tin mug against her lips. She smiled as Lexa slipped her hand under Clarke’s neck and helped her raise her head, while she held the mug to her lips. She gulped at it, and some of it spilled down her cheeks and neck, but she didn’t care. She closed her eyes, when she felt a soft cloth slide against her cheeks and neck.

With greater effort, then she wanted to admit to, she managed to hold Lexa’s gaze for a moment, “The coalition? Does it still stand?”

“Sha, Klark, it still stands. Shusha. You don’t need to worry about it now. Just rest. I will still be here.” Lexa gently ran her palm, soothingly across the top of Clarke’s head and leaned down, resting her forehead against the blonde’s cheek. She smiled and breathed Clarke in as deeply as she could. She could smell the sour sting of medicine, the dried tang of blood, but underneath it all was Clarke. Her Clarke.

Clarke smiled a little, but then frowned when she felt Lexa withdraw, and her hand sought out Lexa’s, and she barely managed to grasp it. “No, Leska. Don’t leave.”

“I’m not, Klark. I’m going to sit here with you.”

“No,” murmured Clarke, a trace of petulance in her voice. She kept her eyes closed and tugged on Lexa’s hand, “Here. With me.”

It was clear what she meant, but Lexa still hesitated eyeing the bed. It was big enough, but she worried about jostling her. “Klark, I don’t want to bump you. You need to sleep. To heal.”

“Shof op, Leska,” muttered Clarke as she cracked one eye open, “I will heal better with you here beside me. I’m a Fisa. Listen to me.”

Lexa chuckled. Who was she to argue with a Fisa? She pulled off her boots and carefully laid down next to Clarke between the doorway and Clarke. She tucked her dagger by her side, so it was within reach. She turned on her side and wrapped one arm around the top of the pillow that Clarke rested on, and she gently cupped Clarke’s cheek with her other hand.

She rubbed her nose lightly against Klark’s causing the blonde to smile tiredly at her. “Rest, Klark. I’m right here.” She shifted closer, barely pressing her side against Clarke’s, and she hummed quietly too her, a simple tune that she had thought she’d long forgotten.

“What is that?”

“My mother used to sing it to me.”

“I like it.” And Clarke turned her face into Lexa’s shoulder, and the cold in Lexa’s chest faded away.

“Ok. What is THAT?” groaned Clarke, her face scrunched up in a scowl.

Lexa looked down in confusion, not sure what she meant. “What is what?”

“That thing that is poking me,” muttered Clarke, her face still scrunched in distaste.

“Oh,” and Lexa slipped her hand into her trouser pocket, pulling out the little doll she had hastily shoved into the pocket earlier. “This.” She held it out to Clarke, smiling a little, when Clarke smiled and grasped the doll.

“Your Clarke doll. You still carry it?”

“Always.” And Lexa said it without any embarrassment, staring into Clarke’s wet, blue eyes when she said it.

“I love it, you know. And I love you,” whispered Clarke.

Lexa smiled and kissed the tip of Clarke’s nose, “and I love you,” she whispered, “Now sleep. You need to heal.”

“But who taught you to carve? Your Nontu?”

Lexa chuckled, “I will tell you, but then you must sleep. I will be right here with you.” Once Clarke had nodded in agreement, Lexa continued, “Sha, my Nontu was a farmer. He started to teach me to carve a bit, but it was Gusts who taught me most of what I know about wood. How to steam it, bend it, shape it and carve it into what I wanted.”

Clarke smiled sleepily, burrowing her face into Lexa’s neck. “Good. When we get to Polis, I want you to build me a shelf.”

Lexa smiled gently, wrapping her arms a little tighter around Clarke’s warm body. She felt her heart thrum in giddy anticipation. We. Clarke had said ‘We.’ “A shelf?” She murmured as she brushed her lips across Clarke’s brow.

“Sha, a shelf. And we will put your Clarke doll, your journal, my book of sketches, and our box that you carved on the shelf. It will hold all of our yesterdays and all of our tomorrows.”

Lexa bent down, pressing her lips Clarke’s hair, her throat too tight with unspoken emotion that she could barely breathe. Tomorrow.

She finally had a tomorrow with Clarke.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think 2 more chapters after this, maybe 3 at the most. I already have two partly written. 
> 
> Cameos in order of appearance: Indigo Skai = Blueskkies and Gata = Gaitorbait55


	42. Welcome to Polis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa arrive in Polis. 
> 
> Whelp. Here it is. All 16,000 words of their arrival in Polis. Please read the author's notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Thank you all so much for sticking with this. There is a lot in this chapter. It's huge. 16,000 words. This chapter is very Clexa centric, but it also has a lot of world-building of Polis and grounder culture. 
> 
> 2) Tons of Cameos!!
> 
> 3) This chapter is dedicated to the lovely and talented Taylah Cox. She was waiting for me to burn her with this chapter, and since I don't know if she meant burn with angst, smut or what...I went with the Unholy Trifecta: Angst, Feels, and Sin! I had originally had notes for a garden scene, but scrapped them, but Taylah thought a garden scene would be fitting; so you can thank her for the garden in the chapter. 
> 
> Also, the song that Clarke sings is called "Fight for Me," by Taylah Cox. It was inspired by Lexa's fight with Roan. I basically listened to hours of Taylah's music on soundcloud while writing this. I strongly recommend you check out her music. She is amazingly talented! Links in the story!

**Links to Taylah's music:[https://soundcloud.com/taylah155 ](https://soundcloud.com/taylah155)**

**Taylah's Tumblr:<http://radio-dreams.tumblr.com/>  
**

 

“Clarke, I don’t think it is a good idea for you to get on a horse,” Abby shook her head and squeezed Clarke’s shoulder lightly as she looked up at the Commander, hoping she would agree with her. When Lexa made no reply to Abby’s silent request, Abby sighed and continued; “Clarke, you haven’t healed enough yet, and I….”

“Enough, Mom. I am more than capable of getting on a horse,” Clarke darted a glance to Lexa who stared impassively at her as always, except Clarke had finally learned how to detect the slight warming of her cool, green eyes. Her face might not have twitched, but her eyes had flared briefly with pride and warmth when she looked at Clarke; and Clarke had taken hope in the small interaction.

It might have only been three days since the fight, but Clarke was ready to get out of the wagon. She _needed_ to get out of the wagon, so she gingerly scooted forward to the edge of the wagon lip, brushing off Abby’s restraining hand. She grabbed the edges of the wagon sides, preparing to push herself off the wagon and on to the ground, when she felt a firm hand under her elbow. She smiled at Octavia who wrapped an arm gingerly around her hips and helped her slide off the wagon bed. She leaned against Octavia for the briefest moment and then slowly straightened. She was careful not to wince, despite the pulling in the stitches on her stomach.

“Bring Wanheda her horse.” Lexa nodded at Clarke, her gaze never straying from the pale upturned face. She carefully searched tired, blue eyes in an attempt to reassure herself that Clarke was fine, that she was strong enough to get on the horse and ride the rest of the way to Polis. She knew how important it was that Wanheda arrive next to her on her own horse, sitting tall and strong in the saddle. Lexa needed her people to see Wanheda’s strength, she needed them to see Clarke as her equal.

Clarke smiled a little at Lexa and reached out to pat Lexa’s horse’s neck. She leaned in closer to the horse so that her face was just a few inches from Lexa’s knee. She wanted nothing more to lean in and rest her head against her knee, to draw strength from Lexa; but she couldn’t afford to be seen as weak. Her battle was not yet done. She still needed to convince the coalition of the strength of her people and their alliance.

Her hand rested only and inch away from Lexa’s knee, and when she heard Octavia move up behind her with her horse, she turned and casually slid her fingers across Lexa’s knee as she turned her back to Lexa so that she could mount her own horse. But in that brief moment, she had felt Lexa’s shiver; and she bit back a smile, relieved that just her slight touch still had the power to shake Heda’s will; despite the recent uneasiness between them.

She put her foot in the stirrup and hesitated, realizing she was going to need a boost, but before she could voice the thought, she felt firm hands grip her hips and push up as she swung herself into the saddle. She glanced down to thank Octavia, but was shocked instead when her eyes clashed with dark, lavender eyes. She glanced down at the fingers that now gently rested on the side of her knee, and she smiled when Fen Dal simply nodded to her and handed her the reins.

Once she was seated, Lexa clucked to her horse and the procession started off again. Clarke grit her teeth against the jostling gait, trying to breathe through her nose as the pain settled into a burning ache in her stomach. Her arms and legs itched as the smaller cuts were slowly healing.

 She ignored the pain, instead glancing around at the procession. She rode next to Lexa, with Lexa on her left with Mordecai; and Fen Dal, Octavia, and Indra on her right, but far enough away to offer her some privacy with Lexa. The wagon followed behind with some of the other Arkers and Trikru, Stone, and Boat warriors scattered around the edges of the procession. She could see warriors up ahead, and she was sure two of them were Lincoln and Bellamy.

She turned her attention back to the front, noticing that the forest was finally starting to thin out. “How much further?”

“Soon.”

Clarke glanced over at Lexa who simply stared ahead, her body relaxed in the saddle, but Clarke noticed the tightening of her jaw. She sighed quietly, glancing down absently at the leather reins in her hand. She fiddled with them quietly, enjoying the feel of the soft, worn leather in her hands. She could hear the creaking of the carts, and the muffled clops of the horses, and she was pretty sure she could hear muffled voices in back, too far away to be distinct.

“You are angry with me.” She glanced over, just in time to see Lexa tighten her hands on her reins, and the horse fumbled its next step ever so slightly. Lexa immediately let out a breath and patted her horse’s neck, muttering something in Trigedasleng that was too low for Clarke to understand.

“Not now, Clarke.” Lexa continued to stare straight ahead, but she wasn’t really seeing the worn forested road, her mind chaotically jumbled. She would never say it out loud, but she was nervous about what would happen in Polis. There was always an annual summit of the clan leaders to start off the Spring Festival. It gave the leaders a chance to air their complaints, and also to renew their loyalties and vows to Heda and Polis. But this summit…this summit had the markings of a coup. She knew not all the clan leaders were appeased by the trial by combat, and they would be even angrier with the proposal that she would put forth at the summit.

Clarke pulled back on the reins, and her horse came to halt. When she realized that Lexa hadn’t stopped, she reached out and grabbed at Lexa’s reins. She almost drew back when furious green eyes met hers. But she simply swallowed hard and released the reins, letting her fingers trail over Lexa’s hands. She bit her lip, well aware of the mutterings around them, and she was sure she had heard at least one sword being drawn.

“Clarke,” bit out Lexa, as she attempted to tamp down her anger, “This is not the time or place.”

“Leska, beja,” murmured Clarke, “I made her a promise. How will the clans trust the Skaikru, if Wanheda goes back on her word? Even if it is her word to a fallen Queen?”

Lexa grit her teeth again, staring straight ahead. She knew Clarke was right, but Clarke had openly challenged her, and that couldn’t stand. She could not afford for the clans to think that they could openly challenge her without paying the consequence.

Lexa turned in her saddle and signaled the procession, “We rest the horses for one hour.” She immediately swung down from her horse, and handed the reins to one of the Seconds. She waited patiently for Clarke to swing down also, covering her smirk when Clarke landed on the ground with a loud thump of her boots.

Clarke grit her teeth, feeling the stitches pulling. She knew Lexa wouldn’t help her, for Clarke had to prove that despite her injuries, Wanheda was still strong and competent. She handed her reins to Octavia and followed Lexa as they walked off the road and down to a small brook. She could hear the warriors spreading out around them, some clambering up into the trees. She was still in awe of how easily the Trikru could take to the trees and move like the wind between the leaves.

She slowly sank down near the brook, closing her eyes for a brief moment, enjoying the sun slipping through the trees. She ran the tips of her fingers through the new grass, smiling at the way the tips tickled her palms.

“You can’t challenge me like you did, Clarke. I am Heda, and I can’t afford for the clan leaders to just think they can challenge me at every turn. Especially not now.”

Clarke glanced slightly to the side, staring at the strong legs wrapped in black pants. She followed the line of her legs up to the strong profile. She sighed quietly, “Aren’t you going to sit with me?”

Lexa hesitated for a moment looking around, then dropped gracefully into a crouch next to Clarke. She turned her body slightly towards Clarke’s, and despite her anger at her, she couldn’t help but admire the waves of golden hair that tumbled around her face, the strong curve of her shoulders. She bit her lip and sighed. Those strong shoulders were now slumped and the golden head was bowed under the weight of Lexa’s anger.

Lexa huffed in annoyance and then leaned in letting her shoulder scrape against Clarke’s. This girl would probably be her undoing, but Lexa knew she could live with that. “Clarke…” she started again, only to be interrupted.

“I know, Leska. I know. But I promised her. She knew she was defeated, and she made me promise that I would burn her body and her consort’s.” Clarke looked up with pleading eyes, hoping Lexa would understand. “I had to slit her throat and feel her blood splash across my skin. I’m the one who watched the light die in her eyes, and all she wanted was for her soul to be released. She was no longer a Queen, no longer my enemy. Just another person, another death, another soul.” Clarke slid her hand behind Lexa’s leg, grasping her angle in an attempt to ground herself.

“What good is Wanheda to anyone if her word can’t be trusted?” Clarke waited, but when Lexa made no reply, she simply leaned in pressing her face into the side of Lexa’s arm. “I’m sorry I challenged you, Leska. I never meant to do that, but I had to see her burned, instead of letting the animals feast on her bones.”

Lexa stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the gentle voice in her ear, the weight of Clarke against her side. But as she crouched their listening to the water tumble over the rocks and the wind blow gently through the grass, she couldn’t help the little smile that twitched at the corners of her mouth. She shook her head in resignation and turned slightly, just enough to press her lips to the crown of Clarke’s golden hair. She breathed deeply enjoying the moment, before she pulled back.

“Klark, you made me look weak.”

“I know, Leska, I’m so…”

“No, Klark, you don’t understand. If I am weak, then the clans will think that they can attack the coalition and the Skaikru. Your open defiance of my word to have the bodies dragged away for the animals, has weakened my position as Heda. The summit is tonight, and I am not sure what will happen.”

Clarke bit back a sob as she pressed her face into Lexa’s shoulder again. She felt nauseous and the ache in her chest was heavier and harsher than the pain of her healing wounds. She was exhausted, and if she were prepared to be fully honest, she was afraid. She had been unprepared for Lexa’s anger when she found out that Clarke had gone against her orders. Clarke had ordered Bellamy and Monroe to take some of the Skaikru and find the bodies in the woods and burn them as quickly as possible.

She knew that Lexa would be displeased, perhaps she would even yell, but she hadn’t been prepared for Lexa’s icy silence, or the way she ignored Clarke most of the trip to Polis. Lexa’s actions had been unprecedented, and if Clarke’d had the foresight to try to look at the situation objectively, she might have remembered that many of the generals of other clans were traveling with them to Polis: generals who were watching every interaction Lexa had with Clarke.

“How can I fix this?”

Lexa tiredly rubbed a hand over her face before letting it fall back to the ground, where she pulled at the young grass. “They think Wanheda commands Heda,” she murmured. And she couldn’t help the hollow chuckled that died in her chest, for they were right. Wanheda commanded Heda’s heart, and Lexa wasn’t sure if she could ever choose her people again over Clarke, if it was required of her.

“Then let’s show them that it is Heda who commands Wanheda,” Clarke tightened her hand around Lexa’s ankle and squeezed slightly to get Lexa’s attention. She leaned in closer, her mouth just barely scraping against Lexa’s cheek. “Let’s show them how Wanheda bows before Heda,” she murmured as she let her lips rest briefly on Lexa’s cheek. She smiled against Lexa’s cheek when she felt the older girl shiver under her touch. “We will show them that Heda holds and commands the power of Wanheda.”

“How?” Lexa barely choked out the one word, as she felt the heat of Clarke’s mouth sink into her flesh and travel through muscle and sinew to swirl in her belly. She briefly closed her eyes, trying to gather her wits about her, but she was distracted by Clarke’s breath feathering across her cheek.

Clarke shifted carefully to her knees, pressing her front into Lexa’s side, her mouth still pressed lightly to Lexa’s cheek. “At the summit. Tonight. Wanheda will bow before Heda. I will pledge my loyalty to Heda and to the Coalition.” She pressed her lips harder against Lexa’s cheek before continuing, “Wanheda will submit, and I will take your brand.”

She smiled when she felt the flush of heat against her lips. She skimmed her lips across her cheek, up to her ear. “And tonight, after the summit, I will bow to you again, Heda. You alone will command me,” she murmured as she sucked the Lexa’s earlobe into the warmth of her mouth.

Lexa couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through her body, and she clenched her thighs together in an effort to relieve the unexpected throbbing. It hadn’t occurred to her that Clarke would be willing to take the Coalition brand. She had assumed that Abby or Kane would do it as they led the Skaikru, but she couldn’t help briefly imagining what it would be like seeing Clarke marked forever by her own hand. She bit her lip, mentally castigating herself for the way her breath had quickened at the thought.

But her thoughts were abruptly torn back to the present when she felt the tiny fission of pain explode in her ear, “Klark!” She yanked her head back hard, her hand quickly cupping her ear. She glared at Clarke when her fingertips came away tinged slightly in blood.

Clarke laughed, “Serves you right, Heda, for not listening to me.”

Lexa smirked as she wiped her hand on the grass, the bite was tiny and would stop bleeding quickly. She leaned in and kissed the corner of Clarke’s mouth, “Oh I was listening to you, Wanheda. I was remembering what you look like on your knees.” She smirked at the way Clarke’s eyes widened. But she didn’t give Clarke time to respond, before she rose to her feet, stamping a little to get the blood rushing back into her legs.

She looked down at Clarke, and she smiled at the warmth that seeped into her heart. Her anger was gone. She didn’t have it in her to stay angry at Clarke, or to punish her for what she’d done. She hoped that Wanheda willingly bowing before Heda would appease the clans. She bent down slightly, holding out both hands, waiting for Clarke to grasp them; and once she did, she swiftly but carefully pulled her to her feet.

They stayed that way for a moment, Lexa still holding Clarke’s hands, and when Clarke stepped closer, and pressed her mouth to Lexa’s, she didn’t push her away, despite knowing it might not be a good idea to get lost in the moment, out here in the open.

“Klark.”

“Shof op, Leska. Everyone knows. And if they didn’t before, they will tonight.” Clarke pulled back, releasing Lexa’s hands as she smirked at her. “After all, I intend to make you scream tonight Heda, so all of your people know that you also belong to Wanheda.” And with that, Clarke turned and walked back towards their horses, smiling smugly to herself, knowing she had left Lexa standing there flabbergasted.

**********************************

They rode quietly for a couple more hours as the forest continued to thin bit by bit, and Clarke could easily see trails running alongside the main path. She was surprised when Lexa came to a halt at a small creek that flowed across their path. She stepped her horse forward slightly and raised her hand, and then cupped her mouth and let out a piercing call.

Clarke stared at her in shock, but then her head whipped around when she heard the answering calls fading in and out. She watched as the Skaikru and some of the other clan warriors shuffled uneasily in place, their hands on their weapons. She cocked her head though, because it sounded as if some of the calls came from higher up, but her thoughts were interrupted as Lexa nudged her horse into the creek.

“Come. We will be in Polis in another hour.”

Clarke guided her horse down into the creek, and she sucked in a sharp breath when she felt her stitches start to pull again. She bit her lip hard, to keep from groaning at the pain that twisted through her abdomen. She knew at least a couple had popped, as her body was flung about in the saddle, as her horse climbed the opposite bank.

Lexa looked back, noting the pain that carved lines into Clarke’s face. She wanted to call a halt so they could rest for a moment, but she knew they needed to continue quickly to Polis. There was still much to do before the summit. But she waited for Clarke to draw abreast of her.

“Klark?” she couldn’t keep the worry from her whisper, and she knew only Clarke could hear her.

“Sha, Leska. I’m fine. Let’s get to Polis.” Clarke smiled at her and heeled her horse lightly, and Lexa quickly followed.

They had only been riding a few minutes, when Clarke saw the first warrior standing on top of a large rock, then she saw another step out from behind a tree, and then another, and then another. She relaxed when she recognized that they were Trikru warriors, and they all stood at attention as their Heda rode by.

She heard a bird trill, and she looked up expecting to see birds, but her mouth fell open when she gazed up into a canopy of bridges and small huts and outposts. Her horse came to a stop, and she simply stared, up into the trees, amazed at what appeared to be carefully hidden pulley systems in the trees, with bridged connecting various trees. As she continued to stare, she saw warriors crouching high up in tree limbs, others starting to glide carefully across the wooden bridges swinging in the air.

“Leska…” her voice trailed off in amazement. She had never seen anything like it. It appeared to be an entire small village in the trees, and she could see that it stretched almost as far as the eye could see.

Lexa beamed and looked up, raising her hand to her warriors, who pounded their fists over their hearts and started to chant, “Heda, Heda, Heda.”

Lexa turned her horse so she could face Clarke and the rest of the Skaikru and her warriors, “Welcome to Polis, Klark.” She gestured up into the air. “This is where Polis was first built after the bombs. The land wasn’t safe to live upon because of the mutated creatures, so my ancestors took to the trees instead.” She chuckled at the look on Clarke’s face. “It is why we are called the Tree people. Trikru.”

She turned her horse back and continued on the path, smiling a little to herself as the Skaikru were falling over themselves, trying to follow along, but they couldn’t tear their eyes from the warriors running and leaping through the treetops. She halted again at a massive tree that was wider than the length of her horse. She waited for the rest to catch up, and cupped her hands again, letting out more shrill whistles. They were quickly answered and soon bodies were swinging from limbs and running across the bridges to the big tree.

Clarke stared in awe as she watched them gather and crouch on the limbs of the massive tree. She could see that this tree was the foundation of the entire system, as the limbs were bigger than a man’s body, and over a dozen bridges were anchored to the limbs.  

Lexa waited until one figure finally dropped to the ground in front of her. The young woman placed her fist over her heart and bowed before Lexa, “Welcome home, Heda. We’ve been keeping watch for you.”

“Mochof, Jay. This is Wanheda,” and she gestured towards Clarke, pleased when Jay bowed her head slightly towards Clarke.

“Welcome to Polis, Wanheda.”

Clarke smiled and nodded back, letting her gaze travel over the woman. She was short but strong, with beautiful, dusky skin and dark eyes, and her teeth flashed in her smiling, round face. Clarke couldn’t help but smile back.

“Klark, this is Jay kom Trikru. She is one of the tree rangers. She and her kru are responsible for the upkeep of the tree system.” Lexa turned her attention back to Jay, “Report, Jay.”

Jay quickly focused on Heda and nodded, “The system is sound. Saji and Row have been tending south of the glen.” She gestured towards two young women who crouched on a low branch above Jay’s head.

“Saji? Row?” Lexa looked up at them both, waiting for them to report.

“Sha, Heda,” murmured the younger girl with the olive skin and black, curly hair, “we had to prune back two trees and move the bridges. Saji re-anchored three bridges, and we’ve tested them thoroughly. Gabrielas has drawn up new maps for you.”

A young girl with dark hair and golden mocha skin and dressed as a seken swung down and landed lightly next to Jay. She bowed before Heda, and then pulled two scrolls from inside her vest. “Sha, Heda. Here are the new systems.”

Lexa nodded and took the scrolls, handing one to Indra, and tucking the other into her jacket. She would examine them later. She let her gaze flit over the young women, her brow puckering slightly. “One of you is missing.” She sighed, “where is she?”

Saji shuffled her feet for a moment, a blush spreading across her pale skin. She pushed her dark hair out of her eyes before looking up into the trees, “Panda, get your butt down here!” she hollered. She winced when Gabrielas backhanded her in the shoulder, and Jay just rolled her eyes and muttered an apology to Heda.

Clarke glanced over at Lexa, surprised to see a small smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. Clarke chuckled. It was obvious now that these women were not just warriors or even civilians. They were important to Heda. She sidled her horse closer to Lexa so she could whisper and still be heard.

“Who are they?”

Lexa snorted. “Branwadas. The entire lot of them.” She nodded to Jay.

“We are the lost girls. We traveled here years ago from other clans when the new Heda ascended.” She was about to continue when she was interrupted by a small shriek and then a body fell to the ground in front of the horses, causing them to startle and back up.

Lexa growled low in her throat and patted her horse’s neck to calm him, as she quickly regained control. She kept an eye on Clarke to make sure that her horse wouldn’t bolt, and she pleased to see that Fen Dal had immediately grabbed the halter and had held the horse.

Lexa turned her attention to the small figure that was groaning and dragging itself up out of the dirt. She glared hard at the girl as she finally stood and started wiping at her pants in a vain attempt at making herself more presentable.

“Nice of you to join us, Panda,” murmured Lexa, her voice laced with just the right amount of annoyance. It quickly grabbed the girl’s attention, and she straightened quickly wincing at the look on Heda’s face.

“I’m sorry, Heda. I was trying to harvest some of the nuts, and…well…” she shrugged and grinned up at Lexa, her eyes sparkling in the light. Lexa frowned at her, but she couldn’t stay angry. The lost girls were wild and stubborn, but loyal and brave; and they had served her well. They were some of the few who had seen beyond Heda, and had loved Lexa as much as Heda.

“Klark. These branwadas are the Lost Girls. They are responsible for ensuring that the tree system thrives.” She gestured at upturned faces, trying not to roll her eyes as they all smiled unrepentantly at her.

Clarke laughed. Lexa had been right. Polis would change the way they thought about the grounders. “Perhaps you will give me a tour of the system?”

The girls nodded eagerly before Jay shooed them back up into the trees, bowing again before Heda and Wanheda. She too quickly swung up into the limbs, where they all crouched watching the procession go by, before Saji and Panda started racing each through the tops of the trees. Jay sighed and rolled her eyes, before she and Gabrielas made their way towards the eastern tree line to check on the bridges.

The procession continued on for another mile before they finally broke the tree line to be greeted by long open fields. Clarke stared in awe for a moment as her gaze scanned the dozens of people working in the fields. She could see what appeared to be different grains growing in the fields. They slowly continued on their way, and the trail to Polis had turned into a wide dirt road that cut through the fields.

The workers stopped what they were doing and bowed when Heda rode by, and then returned to their work. Clarke was drinking it all in when she saw Raven out of the corner of her eye ride up near her.

“Look, Clarke, they have what appears to be an irrigation system running through the fields,” she gestured excitedly towards the small canals that ran through the fields. She pointed to the large arched bridge that spanned the front of the fields. “It’s basically an aqueduct. There must be a huge river or something nearby where it gets the water from.”

“You are correct, Raven. There is a large river that feeds the aqueduct, and the aqueduct carries the water into three large cisterns that feed the city, and then two more that field the fields.”

“Byzantine,” muttered Octavia as she pulled abreast of her friends. “This must have been inspired by the Byzantium aqueducts in what later became Turkey?” She turned to Lexa who nodded her head in confirmation.

“So this wasn’t here when the bombs fell?”

“Much of our history has been lost, but according to the Storia Textors this was built from a bridge that survived and the canals were later added to be used to irrigate crops.”

“What are Storia Textors?” asked Clarke.

Lexa shrugged after a moment of trying to decide how to translate the names into English. “They are the teachers. They are history weavers. I will take you to meet the chief of the Storia Textors. Her name is Lux.”

Lexa spurred her horse forward and the procession broke into a trot as they neared the massive gates to the walled city. Clarke could hear the excited calls of Heda and could hear horns blowing in the distance. She and Lexa broke into a canter, and they swept through the gates with Indra, Octavia, Fen Dal, and Mordecai flanking them on both sides.

They came to an abrupt halt in the middle of a massive dirt courtyard, surrounded by crumbling stone walls and small buildings. Clarke could see what appeared to be alley ways twisting through the broken buildings leading further into the city. She could hear the distant sounds of hundreds of voices rising up towards the city that she now realized sat partly on a small hill.

Clarke glanced around at the various people, citizens and not warriors that had stopped what they were doing to acknowledge the return of their Heda. She watched as Lexa carefully turned her horse in circles, kicking up dust and dirt as she raised her hand to acknowledge the loud shouts. Warriors lined what appeared to be a wide ledge that ran the inside of the stone walls, so they could keep watch over the wall for enemies. Children darted between a sea of legs as more and more people walked up the alleys and spilled out into the courtyard. They wore cloth and furs and leather in all different colors, and they chattered away in what sounded like various dialects.

Clarke watched, slightly overwhelmed and bewildered, as the people continued to chant Heda’s name, and some threw what appeared to be flowers on the ground in front of her horse. She gaped as the people of Polis welcomed their Heda, a Heda that was obviously greatly loved by her people.

Lexa smiled slightly acknowledging her people before turning her attention to a tall woman, who stepped out of the crowd. The woman bowed, and Lexa nodded back to her.

“Welcome home, Heda.”

“It is good to be back, Samar.” Lexa turned to Clarke and also gestured for Kane and Abby to approach the front with Bellamy.

Samar, these are the leaders of the Skaikru. Wanheda, Chancellors Abby and Kane, and Wanheda’s General Bellamy.” She gestured towards the Skaikru and Samar reached up to grasp arms with each of them, and nodded her head also to Wanheda.

“Welcome to Polis,” she smiled at Clarke, “It is an honor, Wanheda.”

Clarke could only nod, still slightly overwhelmed by all of the people. She could feel every breath she took pushing painfully against her ribs, and she wanted nothing more than to escape the dust and noise for a few moments.

“Klark, Samar is the Chief of the Watchkru. They are entrusted with the safety of the Polis. They maintain order in the city while I am gone.” Lexa nodded again to Samar, “She bears the tattoos of the Watch, and anyone with the same tattoos is of the Watch.” Lexa turned more fully to Clarke, “You can trust them, Wanheda,” she murmured.

Clarke nodded, memorizing the intricate tattoos that graced the woman’s arms. She watched as Kane stepped forward and started eagerly speaking with the woman, beaming as she gestured towards his surroundings.

Clarke could feel the pain pulse behind her eyes, and her strength was lagging. She coughed at the dust that was still milling in the air and could only hope that they would soon find a place to rest.

“Commander, we would love to see more of your beautiful city, but I understand there is a summit to get ready for?” Abby stared at Lexa and then casually jerked her chin towards Clarke who was sitting slightly slumped in her saddle.

“Sha, Chancellor. We will head to the tower. Rooms have already been prepared. She eased her horse next to Clarke’s. “We are almost there and then you can rest for a few hours, Klark.” She tried to hide the worry in her voice as she noticed the pain lingering in Clarke’s eyes. She turned gestured for them to follow her as she rode her horse towards a tall tower with a burning flame at the top that reached towards the heavens.

****************************

Clarke woke to the muted sound of voices outside her door, and the wind blowing in off the balcony. She yawned and sat up slowly, wincing as she pushed the furs down. She pulled up her shirt and stared in confusion for a moment at the stark white bandages wrapped around her torso. She frowned as she idly traced the edges of the cloth, and then sighed in relief when she vaguely remembered her mother cleaning her wounds again and re-bandaging them.

She dropped her hands in her lap and looked around the room. She didn’t remember really seeing it when she had finally stumbled into the room with her mother and Octavia holding her up. She remembered the worry in her Lexa’s voice and her hushed demands before she ordered guards put at her doors. She frowned again and slowly tossed off the furs, and slid to the edge of the bed. The bed was tall enough that her toes didn’t quite reach the floor, and she smiled as she sunk her hands into the luxurious furs on the bed.

She stood up and slowly stretched, relieved that her stitches didn’t pull too much, and she realized her mother had probably re-stitched or even resealed the wounds with the powder. She shuffled around the room, idly letting her hands trail along various objects, marveling at the workmanship of some of the items, especially the two chests at the foot of the bed.

She gingerly sat in an old squat chair that was hideously ugly, but she sighed in surprise when the smooth, soft leather cushioned her body. She grinned and wiggled around in it a little, sighing happily as she made herself comfortable. The chair might have been ugly, but it was incredibly comfortable, and she was reluctant to leave it. But she eventually dragged herself out of the chair, and approached what looked like a large, old armoire. She had seen pictures in books, and she when she opened it, she gasped in surprise at the clothing that hung there. Jackets, and heavy fur capes, a couple of dresses, soft shirts. She grabbed one of the shirts and held it up, realizing it was exactly her size. As she sifted through the clothing, she smiled again, when she realized that everything was in her size. Even the two pairs of boots.

“Oh, Leska,” she murmured as she closed the doors. She looked around, noticing what appeared to be a smaller door, but before she could open it, she heard knocking from a large door off to the side. She glanced down, realizing she was only in a long shirt, and she blushed. She glanced around hurriedly, finally grabbing a fur off the bed and wrapping it around herself.

“Come in.”

Two young women entered and bowed their heads before finally meeting her gaze. “Wanheda, Heda has sent us to help you get ready for the Summit.”

Clarke gazed curiously at them for a moment before slowly nodding. She was unsure as to what “helping” actually entailed, but she supposed they could at least point her to the bathroom.

“Um…well, ok. What are your names? Oh, and you can call me Clarke.”

She waited expectantly while the two exchanged looks for a brief moment before approaching. “I am Cassico,” replied the taller of the two. She smiled at Clarke and nodded towards the other woman who looked to be a little older than Clarke. “This is Elora. She is rather quiet, and might not say much.”

Clarke smiled at the older girl. She had dark eyes and long black hair. Clarke turned as Cassico walked past her to the table and set her armload down. That is when Clarke realized the girl had been carrying a bundle in her arms and what appeared to be flowers.

“Are…are those…?” her voice trailed off for a moment as she tried to recall what type of flower they were.

“Roses.” Cassico turned and smiled at Clarke as she finished putting them in the vase. “My mother tends the Heda’s garden, and she grows these roses special.”

“They are beautiful,” Clarke leaned down and in haled the soft scent as it tickled her nose. She brushed her lips lightly against the deep red petals, giggling as the velvet tickled her lips. She pulled back and blushed lightly as the two girls stared at her, but both were smiling; although Elora looked more like she simply found Clarke amusing.

Clarke watched as Elora walked over to the small door that she hadn’t explored yet and opened it. She tried to peek around Cassico, but when she heard running water, she knew she had guessed right that it was a bathroom of sorts.

 “They have running water here?!” she asked excitedly as she started to move towards the bathroom.

Elora poked her head out and frowned briefly, “Of course. Why wouldn’t we?” But she didn’t wait for a reply before she disappeared back into the smaller room. Clarke could hear her moving around, and heard the water stop.

Cassico chuckled as she held out her hand for Clarke, “Come, Wanheda, Elora has your bath ready.”

Clarke stared at the hand waiting for her. She was surprised that the girl seemed to expect Clarke to take it, but she finally shrugged and reached out and clasped the girl’s hand. She couldn’t help but smile back, when Cassico beamed at her, and gently guided her into the bathroom.

She stared around the small room. It was probably only about twenty feet long and maybe ten feet wide, but it was big enough for the large metal tub that dominated the room. It had a high back, and she realized that it was deep enough for her to lean back in. As a matter of fact, it was probably big enough for both her and Lexa. She shivered slightly at the thought.

There was a small fire going in the fire place, and there was small balcony at the end of the room that was covered by gauzy cloth. There appeared to be what she assumed was the toilet, tucked into the corner, and there was a large washbasin on a table with a pitcher next to it. There was a long padded bench shaped like the letter L that was tucked around the tub, and it was here that she noticed a number of jars and towels had been set.

“Come, Wanheda. It’s ok. We are only going to help you.” Cassico smiled and gently pulled the fur from around her and then handed it to Elora who folded it and set it aside.

“Please call me, Clarke.” She grasped Cassico’s hand when she saw the girl start to shake her head, “No, please. I prefer to be called Clarke.” She waited for a moment until both Elora and Cassico nodded.

“Do you need help?” Cassico gestured towards Clarke’s shirt, and Clarke blushed a little as she picked at the hem.

“What is it that you do exactly for Lex… I mean Heda?”

“We are two of Heda’s personal attendants. I am the Chief of Hearth, and Cassico is the Chief Aide,” replied Elora as she sat on the smaller end of the bench and braced her knees around the tub.

Clarke blushed again, “and do you bathe the Heda?” She held her breath, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

“Come, get in, and we will tell you about life here in the Tower,” Elora replied as she tapped the tub and waited for Clarke.

Cassico smiled again, “I spoke with your nomon, Chancellor Abby, and she told me that it would be ok to unwrap your bandages.” Cassico chuckled, “She seemed to think that cleaning them in the tub would be good for you.”

Clarke laughed at that and rolled her eyes. She finally shrugged and grabbed her shirt slowly drawing it up carefully over her head. She let it drop with a wince, and she watched as Cassico bent down slightly and started to unwind the bandages. She couldn’t help but blush again when she felt fingers nimbly undo her bra, and it fell to the floor at her feet. But neither Elora nor Cassico seemed to notice, and neither stared, much to Clarke’s relief.

She crossed her arms self-consciously over her breasts and met Cassico’s eyes, but she only saw compassion reflected in her eyes, and Clarke breathed a sigh of relief. She let her arms drop and grabbed her underwear and pushed them off. She stared at the tub for a moment, realizing that the sides were slightly higher than she’d originally thought, and her legs ached from the cuts.

She was relieved when she felt warm and steady hands grasp her arms and help her into the tub. She groaned when she finally sank down into the warm water. She felt hands come around and gently rest against her cheeks and pull her head back to rest on a rolled up towel.

“Relax. You are safe here, Clarke kom Skaikru.” And Clarke’s eyes fluttered closed when she felt warm water cascade over her hair and long fingers comb through the tangles.

She opened her eyes briefly though when she felt a soft cloth dragged along her arm. She glanced up to see Cassico, studiously washing her arm gently with some type of soap. Her nose twitched and she recognized the smell of the roses again, but there was another underlying scent. It was clean and fresh, almost spicy or sour.

“Lemon and roses,” replied Cassico to Clarke’s unasked question. She continued to wipe the cloth across Clarke’s shoulders, gently scrubbing away the sweat and dirt.

“Do you do this for Heda?”

“Sha. The tower is her home, and we run it. I make sure that everything is organized and runs smoothly here in the tower. I oversee the cooks, and the errand boys, and the caretakers.”

“And I am Heda’s aide. I usually travel with her here in Polis, and I conduct her business outside of the Tower,” added Cassico.

Clarke relaxed in the hot water, allowing it to soothe her weary muscles. She could feel long fingers massaging more soap into her hair and scalp, and she realized it was the first time anyone had ever care for her in such a way. At least that she could recall.

“But you bathe her?” Clarke couldn’t quite keep the edge out of her voice, and she felt long fingers falter slightly in her hair, before she heard the quiet chuckle from Cassico.

“Sha, Clarke. The Heda only trusts us to attend her personally, but that is all we do,” she hastened to add when she felt Clarke stiffen under her hands.

“Fear not, Clarke, Heda’s bed has been empty for many seasons.”

Clarke blushed realizing that they had accurately deduced her jealousy. She groaned a little when the both chuckled, but she couldn’t help but chuckle with them. She swished her hands in the warm water, realizing that perhaps she had found some new friends. She closed her eyes and leaned back again, slowly drifting off, unaware that someone else had entered the room.

She woke with a start when she felt more warm water being poured into the tub. She floundered briefly before she felt familiar hands grasp her arms. “It’s ok, Klark. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Clarke gaped for a moment as she stared into dark green eyes. She looked around quickly for Elora and Cassico, even as she sank down a little more in the tub.

“I sent them away.”

Clarke gazed at Lexa for a moment. She wasn’t wearing her armor, and her face was clear of war paint. She was dressed in a lacy black shirt over black pants that looked more like tights. Her hair was mostly free of her braids, but she looked tired, worried.

Clarke turned and leaned forward in the water, wrapping her hands around Lexa’s arm that rested along the edge of the tub. She rested her chin on her hands, her nose just barely brushing against Lexa’s.

“What’s wrong, Leska?” she whispered, and she was shocked to see green eyes fill unexpectedly with tears. She felt her breath catch in her chest, and she felt panic coat the inside of her mouth. She tightened her hands on Lexa’s arm.

“Leska, what is it? What’s happened?”

“I almost lost you, Klark,” whispered Lexa as the first tear dripped down her cheek, and she barely stifled the sob building in her chest. She’d been holding it in for so long, trying to distract herself from the pervading feeling of helplessness that she couldn’t seem to shake. She’d never felt weaker than when she had sat at the edge of the ring and watched at the whip cut into Clarke’s flesh, had watched as the rusted metal tore at her flesh, spraying arcs of red into the air.

She could still hear the crack of the whip in her dreams, hear the Queen’s taunting laugh that scraped across her burning flesh. Too often she had woken with a start, a scream buried in the cavern of her chest. And she would make her way to Clarke’s tent to sit beside her, and watch over her. She needed to convince herself that Clarke was alive, that she hadn’t left her and that the Queen hadn’t won. She had lost Costia to the Queen, and every night in her dreams, she lost Clarke to the Queen.

Clarke reached up and cupped Lexa’s wet cheeks. She pressed her mouth to Lexa’s, over and over again, as she whispered nonsensical words to her. She slid her hands around Lexa’s head and pressed her fingertips into the base of Lexa’s skull. “It’s ok, Leska. I’m here. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. You didn’t lose me, Leska.” She pressed her lips to Lexa’s forehead, and she slid her arms around Lexa’s shoulders. Clarke felt her heart crack inside her chest, felt it break, and the pain come flooding out in Lexa’s tears as the older girl’s shoulders shook with sobs.

Lexa pushed her wet face into the crook of Clarke’s neck, and she wrapped her hands around her biceps, in an effort to keep Clarke’s arms wrapped around her. Not that she needed to, because Clarke simply tightened her hold around Lexa. Lexa couldn’t stop the rough sobs that tore through her chest and raked her throat. She felt her stomach flip and her saliva curdle in her mouth.

“Baby, shhhhhh…its ok, come on, Leska. You are going to make yourself sick. It’s ok, baby, I promise.” Clarke kept pressing kisses to Lexa’s hair, and to any part of her that her lips could meet. She rubbed her hands up and down the strong back, trying not to cry herself.

“I love you, Leska. And I’m here. I’m here, and I’m never leaving you. You can’t make me leave. You can’t drive me away.”

“What if it isn’t enough? What if I’m not enough? What if I can’t save you, Clarke? What if I’m not worth it?” sobbed Lexa.

“I will fight for you, Leska. I will always fight for you, just like you’ve fought for me. We will fight for each other.”

Clarke closed her eyes and pressed her lips to Lexa’s temple and quietly sang under her breath.

All that I am,  
Is all that I wasn’t before.  
Feet on the ground,  
Gravity Centered.

You let me heal,  
From the things that I’ve done.  
So let me heal you,  
You’ve been strong for far too long.

So say you’ll fight, fight, fight for you,  
If not for you then for what we started.  
Maybe it’s a little bit selfish,  
I’m not ready to let you go.  
Oh, fight for you.  
Oh, fight for me.

You are the earth,  
I am the sky.  
Sooner or later,   
We’re gonna come crashing into life.

In this world,  
You’re the only thing that ever makes sense.  
I know that it scares us to death,  
That we can feel again.

So say you’ll fight, fight, fight for you,  
If not for you then for what we started.  
Maybe it’s a little bit selfish,  
I’m not ready to let you go.  
Oh, fight for you.  
Oh, fight for me.

Do you really think that this is weakness?  
Cause what I’m feeling can set fire to the night,  
And burn out all the galaxies,  
Till we light up the sky.

So say you’ll fight, fight, fight for you,  
If not for you then for what we started.  
Maybe it’s a little bit selfish,  
I’m not ready to let you go.  
Oh, fight for you.  
Oh, fight for me.

Lexa relaxed her grip on Clarke’s arms, and let herself slowly relax as her sobs trailed off. She closed her eyes and listened as Clarke kept singing quietly to her. She pulled back slightly when it started to get harder to breathe with her face still stuck in the crook of Clarke’s neck. She could tell her face was a little sweaty. And she blushed and wouldn’t look at Clarke, feeling ashamed that she had appeared weak.

Clarke sighed and grabbed the soft cloth and carefully wiped Lexa’s face. She dropped the cloth back in the tub and grabbed the edges of the tub and heaved herself up to her feet. She smirked as she looked down at Lexa who was still kneeling on the floor, but was looking up at her with her mouth partially open.

But the smirk quickly died, to be replaced with something warm, something tender that flooded all the empty spaces between her ribs, and Clarke felt tears prick her eyes, as she stared down into wide green eyes. She felt her heart press against her ribs, at the look on Lexa’s face. She looked so young, so fragile, so unsure; but the devotion to Clarke was so clear in her eyes; and it made Clarke catch her breath.

“Help me out?” She held her hands out to Lexa, watching as Lexa scrambled to her feet and looked around for the towel before finally finding it, and carefully wrapping it around Clarke, making sure not to aggravate her stitches.

Clarke stepped out of the tub and stared at Lexa for a moment, committing the moment to memory. “Do you remember the last time we did this?”

“Sha. It feels like a lifetime ago,” murmured Lexa as she pulled the towel tighter around Clarke, tucking the ends up under her chin; only for Clarke to pull the towel open and step into Lexa’s body and wrap the towel around them both.

Lexa slid her hands around Clarke’s waist, delicately tracing the healing wounds, and she suppressed a shudder, refusing to think any more about how close she had come to losing Clarke. She pressed her cheek against Clarke’s, and held her gently, memorizing the feel of the younger girl’s body against her own, the way Clarke’s body melted in her own, as if it were truly possible for them to become one body, one soul, one heart.

She reluctantly stepped back after a few moments, “The summit starts in an hour. You should eat, and get changed. Elora and Cassico have your dress.” Lexa bit her lip shyly for a moment before hesitantly meeting Clarke’s eyes. “I hope that was ok? That I chose your dress?”

Clarke tenderly pressed her lips against Lexa’s, tasting her, drinking her in. “Sha, ai hodness, it is ok. I can’t wait to wear it.” She smiled and rubbed her nose against Lexa’s, silently marveling at this version of Lexa: soft and vulnerable, slightly unsure. She had only ever caught glimpses of this Lexa, and somehow she knew that this Lexa needed to be held a little tighter, needed to be told a little more often that she was loved, that she wasn’t alone.

Lexa smiled and stepped back, turning towards the door. “I will send them in.”

“Leska….about Elora and Cassico…”

Lexa chuckled and shook her head, “You have nothing to worry about, Klark. They run this tower, and they can be trusted. They are now your personal attendants. And Klark…” she waited for Clarke to look at her again. “They have never warmed any part of me.” And with a quiet smirk, she was gone.

Clarke laughed and shook her head at her own small piques of jealousy. She walked out into the outer room to see Elora and Cassico placing food on a table. Cassico held a robe open for her, and then she sat down and ate, but only after insisting that they eat with her, much to their amusement.

*******************************

She stood outside the heavy wooden doors, her heart pounding in her chest. Beyond the doors were all of the clan leaders, some generals, and ambassadors. Beyond these doors was her people’s future. Her future. She wiped her suddenly clammy hands on the long skirt she wore. Her fingers tripped over the slit in the side, and she smirked at how high it was, knowing it had been deliberate on Lexa’s part. She pulled her shoulders back and nodded to the guards.

The doors opened and the first notes of music drifted out, swirling around her. She walked into the throne room, each step carefully measured, carefully timed to each breath she took. Her eyes never once strayed to the right or left. She had eyes only for the woman in the dress who rose from her throne to stand and greet her. She walked into the room, ignoring everyone, walking with all the confidence of Wanheda, of a Queen.

The room was small and crowded with people. It stunk of leather and fur, of sweaty bodies, and spice and rum. The air in the room vibrated with barely restrained mutterings, of shifting energy, and swirling allegiances. The room was dark but for the dozens of lit candles that were scattered around, and tattered red runner led up to the throne that sat atop a dais. Indra stood to one side of Lexa, and a bald headed man in long robes stood to the other.

And next to Indra stood a young woman with long brown hair, the ends dyed blonde. She appeared only slightly older than Clarke. It was she who was singing. Something old, something beautiful, something haunting. The melody floated in the air, and the words pressed down against Clarke. She could feel the music brush along her skin, and she didn’t know whether she wanted to run from it; or simply bask in the girl’s haunting refrain.

She stopped only a couple of feet from Lexa, and then in one smooth motion she dropped to both knees and bowed her head. And she didn’t bother to look up, but she heard the sound of knees hitting the cold stone floors. She breathed deeply letting the song flow over her, and when the last note died out; Lexa spoke.

“Hail, the leaders of the twelve clans.”

“Hail, Commander of the Blood.”

Clarke suppressed a shiver at the title. She had never heard Lexa referred to as the Commander of Blood, but she knew it was fitting. Heda was soaked in blood, and only Wanheda rivaled her in death.

Lexa glanced around at her people, still kneeling. She thought for a moment to beckon them to rise, but decided it wasn’t time yet. Perhaps kneeling a little longer before their Heda would remind them of their place.

“We welcome Skaikru to our halls in the spirit of friendship and harmony. And we welcome Clarke kom Skaikur, legendary Wanheda, Mountain Slayer. The reason for this summit has changed. We are not here to re-negotiate the treaties already set forth, or negotiate new treaties with other clans, but rather to officially welcome the Skaikru into the Coalition.”

Lexa threw up her hands when she heard the loud murmurs from various clan leaders. “Wanheda has petitioned for the Skaikru to become the thirteenth clan of the Coalition. And she will bear this Coalition’s mark to signify this union.”

Lexa gestured for her advisor, Titus, to approach with the long brand. It glowed hotly in the darkened room. “Do you accept this mark, Wanheda? Do you pledge your allegiance and your blood to this Coalition?”

Clarke stared up at Lexa, meeting her eyes calmly. She held out her right arm, “Sha, I pledge my allegiance and my blood to this Coalition. I pledge my life to you, Heda.” Lexa froze for a brief moment, her breath catching in her throat at Clarke’s words. She felt the full weight of them sink into her chest, and she reached out and gestured for the brand.

She stepped closer and bent down, sliding her hand under Clarke’s arm to support it. “I’m sorry, Klark. This is going to hurt,” she murmured for her ears alone, and then she pressed the burning brand into the soft skin of Clarke’s arm. She held it there for a few seconds, her hand trembling slightly when she heard the tortured groan that just barely scraped past Clarke’s tightly gritted teeth. She pulled it back and stood up quickly passing the brand back to her advisor.

“Commander, please.” Lexa stopped and looked curiously at Kane as he stepped forward and then knelt next to Clarke. He pulled up the sleeve of his jacket and held out his right arm. “I pledge my allegiance and my blood to this Coalition.”

No one moved and the advisor looked to Lexa who stared at Kane for a long moment before nodding her head. She stepped back and her advisor pressed the brand into Kane’s skin. Kane grit his teeth and managed to suppress the cry of pain, but as he went to stand, he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. He glanced up, and saw Abby looking down at him, and she nodded to him before slowly kneeling by his side.

Lexa could barely breathe as she watched as one by one the Skaikru representatives dropped to their knees and held out their arms: Abby, Octavia, Raven, and Bellamy. No other clan had ever offered more than one leader to her brand, no other clan had offered this kind of allegiance. She waved to her advisor who thrust the brand back into the coals letting it heat up again.

“Are you sure, Skaikru? There is no going back.”

“Sha, Heda, we came from the stars but we live on the ground. In your world, in your coalition. We accept this as our birthright,” replied Abby as she nodded firmly, willing her arm not to tremble as the advisor pulled the brand from the coals.

Lexa stepped closer to Abby and looked down at her and murmured quietly, “You honor me, Chancellor Abby. I will not break treaty with the Skaikru.” She leaned closer so only Abby could hear her, “I will not forsake her again.”

Abby nodded and stared hard at Lexa as she recited her vow, and despite the fact that she flinched when the burning brand seared her skin; she could see the admiration burn in Lexa’s eyes. And one by one, the Skaikru took the mark of the Coalition, the mark of Heda.

*****************************

Clarke sighed, her muscles ached, and the burn on the underside of her arm stung. After they had vowed their allegiance and taken the brands, the summit had droned on for another couple of hours, as various clan leaders aired their complaints. And while it was tiring, Clarke was in awe of how Lexa handled each leader. She resolved their issues, leaving no room for dissent or disobedience, but she was fair; and despite some of the grumblings; Clarke knew that the leaders recognized it also.

She glanced around trying to recall the names of the clan leaders and generals when Lexa had officially introduced them all. She let her mind drift as the voices hummed on into background noise. She thought about the young singer she had met. Lexa had introduced her as Taylah, and Clarke had admired her beautiful tattoos that swirled around her arms in eddies. It had taken a moment, but she realized that the swirling vortexes were actually made up of musical notes, and she had been excited to realize that each swirl was part of a melody.

_“What do the notes mean?” She had eagerly questioned the girl who had laughed and happily pointed out each swirl, explaining how they made up a song._

_“This is the song of the Trikru. All Trikru strikons are taught it, and we sing it during festivals and harvests.” She traced the swirls with a slim finger, singing each note carefully. “This song is my people’s history.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“So much was lost after the fire fell from the sky. Much of our ancestor’s history burned, so we turned our stories into songs so that they could be easily taught. This song tells of what happened after the fires. How the first commander came from the sky, how our people had left the ground to live in the trees.” She tapped a large swirl in varying shades of blue that took up the entire side of her shoulder. “This one here, this is the part about Heda,” she nodded her head in Lexa’s direction._

_Clarke leaned in closer, her hand automatically going to the girl’s shoulder, but her fingers hesitated briefly before she touched. “May I?”_

_“Of course.”_

_Clarke smiled and let her finger tips dance lightly over the tattoo, admiring the flawless design. She started at the bottom of the swirl, and gently traced each note as they circled around each other. She wished she could read them, understand them._

_“But how do you read the notes? Don’t some of the notes look the same, and the sound differs depending on where they are on the scale?”_

_Taylah nodded and smiled, impressed with Clarke’s knowledge of music. “Sha, you see the white swirls that cut through the notes? They look like the foamy edges of water in eddies?”_

_Clarke nodded, remembering pictures she had seen of small eddies and whirlpools. “Oh!” she gasped in delight. “I see, those are actually the scale. You just have to know how to read this particular scale.”_

_“Sha. The scale is different from what was used before the fire. We adapted it so that we wouldn’t have to use straight lines.”_

“Clarke. Clarke!”

Clarke jolted slightly in her seat, realizing that all of the clan leaders were staring at her. She tried not to flush guiltily, and she nodded to Lexa. “My apologies, Heda.” She nodded again, hoping Lexa would simply repeat herself, and she wouldn’t have to admit that she wasn’t listening.

“I said that we would end the summit for now and will reconvene at the end of the festival, before the clans return to their homes. The Skaikru are welcome to stay in the tower if they so desire.” Lexa stared expectantly at Clarke, waiting for her to make a decision.

“Mochof, Heda. We appreciate your generosity, and we accept.”

Lexa nodded and dismissed the clans, but continued to sit in her throne as the others filed out. She watched as Abby leaned down and kissed the top of Clarke’s head and whispered a few words to her, before respectfully nodding to Lexa and leaving with Kane.

Soon it was just the two of them as Lexa dismissed Indra and Titus and the rest of the guards, much to Titus’ annoyance. Lexa rose from her throne and came to stand next to Clarke. She held out her hand, “Come, Clarke, I want to show you something.”

********************************

Lexa kept her hand on the small of Clarke’s back as she led her outside the tower and down a small winding path. Neither spoke, and the six guards with them moved quietly through the gathering darkness, offering them a little privacy. Polis was relatively safe, and perhaps six guards weren’t necessary, but Lexa wasn’t wearing her armor, even though she did have two daggers strapped to her thighs underneath her dress.

She finally stopped a large wrought iron gate, hesitating for a few moments as she gathered her courage. It had been so long since she had been here, but she had wanted to share it with Clarke. She wrapped both hands around the cool metal, but it felt more like it burned into her palms. She pulled the gates open, but still she hesitated. She cocked her head for a moment realizing that someone or someone’s were walking up the path towards her, from the other side of the gate.

Lexa backed up a step, her arm automatically going out to pull Clarke behind her, and her guards immediately stepped forward to challenge the intruders. But Lexa relaxed the moment she recognized Samar and her Seken, and she waved her guards down.

Samar lifted a hand in greeting and stopped inside the gate and bowed low. The woman’s brown hair was done up in a top knot, and the sides and back were shaved as was the expected style for the Watchkru. There were numerous hidden blades in the stitched pockets of her heavy black vest, and she didn’t wear a shirt underneath to allow for ease of movement.

“Well met, Heda. We were checking the inside perimeter,” she motioned to her Seken to step forward, grasping the young girl’s shoulder. “This is my Seken, Rayje.”

Lexa eyed the girl for a moment, taking in the black hair that fell past her chin, noting that the last inch of hair was dyed a royal blue. She narrowed her eyes for a moment trying to place the girl. There was something infinitely familiar about her, and Lexa felt a moment of apprehension that she couldn’t place her immediately.

 She nodded her head at her, “Rayje.”

“Heda, it is my honor,” and when the girl bowed again and smiled slightly revealing sharpened canines, Lexa immediately placed her.

“You were the foundling goufa. Gustus found you on the battlefield after the great Summer Storm War.” Lexa stared hard at her for a moment. The girl was clearly Wolf, but she wore the robes of the desert people, and her tattoos were those of the Blood Clan and Watchkru’s Seken.

“You were the only survivor,” muttered Lexa lost in thought. Lexa had been a young night blood during the great Summer Storm War when the Wolf, Desert, and Blood Clans finally allied themselves together and launched an attack against the Stone Clan. Each clan, had separately, launched numerous skirmishes against the Stone Clan in the few years before the final war, but they had never succeeded in drawing out the Stone Clan. They had banded together in an attempt to take the Clan, and then ally themselves to the Ice Clan. It had been a short, bloody war, and the Stone Clan had prevailed. But it was that particular battle that had solidified the rumors about the Stone Clan, how they called up fogs and monsters from the lands. Lexa clearly remembered the stories of the warriors’ bodies torn asunder, and the child who had been found walking among the dead. No one had known the child’s identity. She bore a mark of the Blood Clan, and yet her teeth had been filed like the Wolf, and yet she wore the soft brown cloth of the Desert Clan. Cloth soaked in blood.

Lexa grabbed one of the torches that hung from the gate and held it high. She beckoned the girl forward. She stared hard at Rayje, searching her face for any guile. And when the girl carefully blinked, Lexa bit back her gasp when she saw the girl’s blue eyes. Eyes like ice that practically glowed. She had only ever seen another set of eyes quite like it, and they belonged to Julixen, the child of the Fae D’Etat Lowiiie.

“Who are you?”

Rayje froze for a moment, unsure how to answer, for Heda already knew that she was the foundling goufa found wondering a battlefield. She fumbled her hand across the short sword at her side, but quickly pulled her hands away and held them out in front of slightly, palms up, when the guards shifted, and prepared to draw their weapons.

“I am yours, Heda.” Rayje sunk to one knee, and carefully pulled her dagger out of her belt. She held up her palm, and then dragged the blade across, letting the blood well up before she offered her palm again to the Heda.

Lexa stared for a moment, weighing her options. She glanced at Samar, who nodded ever so slightly. Lexa knew Samar could be trusted, she had proved her loyalty and devotion to Heda and to Polis. Lexa reached down, dipping her finger in the girl’s blood and pressed her finger to the middle of the girl’s forehead and then drew it down her nose, over her lips and down her chin. She then dipped her finger back in the blood, and pressed a bloody print between her eyes.

“Rise, Rayje kom Trikru, Seken of the Watchkru. You are accepted as Heda’s.” She nodded at Samar. “Bring her to Kellen in two days, so that she may begin her training as a Trikova.” She watched as both Samar and Rayje quietly took their leave, and turned back to Clarke who stared at her questioningly.

“It is an ancient tradition, going back to the first commander. She is suited to be a Trikova. She was never placed in training, because no one ever really knew where she was from,” Lexa smiled thoughtfully, “but now I think I know.”

She cupped her hand under Clarke’s elbow. “Come, I want to show you something.” They walked through the gates down a worn path, and Clarke looked around, noting the short stone walls that ran throughout the entire area. She smiled when she realized that they were walking through a carefully tended garden. Most of the flowers weren’t blooming since dusk had already fallen, but she could see tall trees scattered throughout the area, small hedge bushes lining the walks, and large swaths of flowers, petals closed until the morning sun rose again.

Lexa ordered her guards to spread out as they neared a giant tee, its branches hanging low with long, almost feathery like fronds that swept the tips of the grass. Lexa turned to Clarke, and put her finger to her lips, and then carefully pulled back the vines and stepped inside. She let the fronds slide back in place, and she walked over to the stone bench, wiping away the dew and dirt. It had been too long since she had been here. She couldn’t help the momentary sadness that clenched her heart, as she carefully removed traces of her long absence from the bench.

Once done, she turned back to Clarke, and her heart slammed against her ribs. Clarke was standing still under the canopy, her head tilted up, her eyes closed. Her arms were stretched wide, and the white glow of the moon, that had managed to penetrate the tree’s canopy, bathed her upturned face.

It was so still that Lexa was sure that Clarke could hear the pounding rush of her heart in the quiet. She slowly sank down on the bench, refusing to tear her gaze from Clarke who stood motionless, only the gentle rise and fall of her chest indicating that she was still there. In this moment. Lexa felt the last dregs of pain slip from her heart, and she smiled. She glanced up at the canopy, at the hundreds of barely glowing lights that rested among the leaves and branches, and along the trunk of the tree. She stood up and walked over to the tree, resting her hand along a bare patch of grey bark.

She took a deep breath and then tapped her hand against the rough bark, she did it again, even harder; and then she heard the soft swish of hundreds of fire flies and butterflies stirring and taking flight. She gulped when the lights started to swirl and dance, the pinks and greens and blues splashing across Clarke’s upturned face, sliding down and swirling all around her body. She watched in awe as butterflies came to rest gently on Clarke’s outstretched arms.

She felt the salt burn her eyes. The blue and purple butterflies that glowed in the darkness under the canopy had always been Costia’s. They would alight on her arms, in her hair, even on the tip of her nose. They would hover around her, as if realizing Costia was one of them, born on the ground, but destined to fly. They had never alighted on Lexa. She had never felt the soft kiss of their silken wings against her skin. And now, they had found a new soul to watch over, to protect, and they brushed against Clarke’s face, and arms, touching every single part of her, and Lexa allowed the silent tears to fall.

“Klark, open your eyes.”

Clarke stood there, face upturned to the moon. The moment she had stepped under the tree’s canopy, and the fronds had dropped back in place to shut her away from the outside world, she had known. She had felt the full weight of the tree’s story settle on her skin. She had been surprised that it didn’t feel like a burden, just a gentle whispering caress. She had closed her eyes, and tilted her head to the moon, allowing the peace of this moment drift around her.

She had heard soft whirr of hundreds of wings, and she could feel them swirling the air around her. She had laughed quietly when she felt a hundred tender kisses press against her skin. And when she heard Lexa’s soft entreaty, she finally opened her eyes.

She had never seen anything quite so beautiful, so peaceful, so vibrant. She held out her hands to Lexa, relieved when the older grabbed them, and they pulled each other to themselves. And Clarke watched as the lights splashed across Lexa’s face, highlighting her cheekbones, tracing the strong line of her jaw. The green and pink lights glowed against Lexa’s lips, and Clarke wondered if she could taste the light if she but pressed her lips to Lexa’s.

And it felt like the first time, when their hands slid around each other, as they fell gently into each other. And the kiss was immeasurable soft, almost tentative, just the barest brush of lips, just the slightest pressure. And it carried with it the weight of a promise, offered in silence and peace with only hundreds of fireflies and butterflies to bear witness.

**********************************

It had been an hour since Lexa had left Clarke in her room, and Indigo had come to her room and carefully bandaged the burn after slathering a cooling cream on it. Now Clarke stood on the balcony enjoying the cool night air. She could see the stars sparkling in the sky, and for a brief moment she felt homesick. She smiled softly remembering the moment in her tent when Lexa had brought her a jar full of fire flies, just so she could remember what living among the stars felt like for a few precious moments.

She leaned both hands on the twisted, wrought iron that formed a railing of sorts around the crumbling balcony. She supposed she should have been worried that she would fall, but few things caused her fear anymore, although chief among those that did was the possibility of losing Lexa. She shook her head for a moment, refusing to think any more about it. The summit had gone better than both she and Lexa had predicted, and the Skaikru’s place in the coalition was secure. She had done her duty to her people. Maybe now, she wouldn’t owe anything more to them, and she could stay here. With Lexa.

She gazed out at the twinkling fires scattered around the city. She could see the blazing bonfire that Indigo told her always burned in the courtyard so people could gather around it whenever they chose. She glanced straight down and to the left, and noticed what appeared to lights swaying slightly in the breeze. There were dozens of pinpricks of lights, and she thought for a moment they might be the fireflies, but she knew she was up too high to see them. But she knew it was the garden, cloaked in darkness, and she knew, even though she couldn’t see them; that hundreds of fireflies and butterflies lived there, waiting. They had waited for Costia, but now they would wait for Clarke.

She wrapped her arms around herself, her mind replaying the moment in the garden. She hadn’t needed to ask Lexa about the importance of the tree. She had just known. It had been Costia’s tree, the tree of tears, and Lexa had shared it with her, offered her that last piece that had always been reserved for Costia.

Clarke rested her fingertips against her lips. She smiled when she heard the knock, and she turned from the balcony and quickly strode to the door. She opened it, and couldn’t help her gasp. Her hair was completely free of her braids, and it lay across her shoulder, thick and curly. Clarke bit her lip, as her gaze traveled down the length of Lexa’s body. She felt her breath twitch in her chest, and her fingertips tingled with the urge to reach out and touch the soft skin of her collarbone, her breasts and arms.

The black nightgown clung to Lexa’s slim curves, and when Clarke stepped back to let her enter, she almost moaned when she realized that the gown was slit all the way up to her hip, and showed a vast expanse of leg as Lexa walked past Clarke and into the room. She closes the door behind Lexa and then leans back against it, watching the gentle sway of Lexa’s hips as she walks over to the middle of the room where the table is. She watches as Lexa reaches out and gently fondles the petals of a red rose.

Clarke stares hotly at the long, slim fingers that gently brush against the petals, until she’s finally had enough of Lexa’s unintended teasing, and she stalks towards Lexa, pressing into the older girl’s back before she can turn. She wraps both hands around her waist and presses her mouth against a bare shoulder blade, kissing and sucking gently.

Lexa sighs with a smile and brings her hands up to gently caress the arms wrapped tightly around her waist. She fingers the white bandage wrapped around Clarke’s arm, and she knows it hurts, knows that the pain will register in a moment.

“Klark.”

“No, Leska,” Clarke wants to cringe when it comes out in a whine, but she can’t quite bring herself to care enough, and she doesn’t want to hear what Lexa says. She slides her palms up Lexa’s belly, feeling the soft silk of the fabric bunch slightly, and really the only thing she wants is this nightgown off, so she pulls away slightly, and spins Lexa around and presses her mouth to the delicate line of Lexa’s throat.

She’s rewarded by Lexa immediately wrapping her arms around Clarke and pulling her close, and Lexa angle’s her head, granting Clarke more access to the column of her neck, and Clarke wastes no time in laying claim to the soft flesh beneath her mouth.

Lexa shudders at the feel of soft lips nipping and sucking along her throat. She shivers at the feel of a firm, wet tongue tracing the tendons that connect her neck to her shoulder, and it is finally with considerable regret, that she pushes Clarke gently away, trying not to stare into dark, shining blue eyes.

“Klark, we shouldn’t…”

“Yes, Leska, yes, we should. After all, I promised I would bow before you tonight,” and Clarke pushes forward again, intent on kissing Lexa, but Lexa turns her head just in time, and Clarke’s lips scrape against the edge of her jaw. Clarke closes her mouth around the edge of Lexa’s lower jaw, and gently sinks her teeth into the muscle in retaliation. She tries to grasp Lexa around her waist again, but the underside of her right arms scrapes along Lexa’s ribs, and she can’t stifle the groan of pain quick enough.

She curses silently as she buries her face into the crook of Lexa’s neck, and she feels slightly angry. At herself, at Lexa, at the dead Queen, and she shrugs out of Lexa’s arms when she feels the soothing circles on her back.

Lexa sighs when she meets Clarke’s stormy gaze, but she can also read the exhaustion and pain in her eyes that the blonde is desperately trying to bury. “Klark,” she tries again and gently cups the blonde’s hips even though Clarke refuses to look at her, and instead tries to cross her arms over her chest; but the burning pain in her arm is too much.

“It’s ok, Klark. There is time for that later. You still aren’t well, your body needs to heal, Klark.” She leans forward and kisses Clarke on the cheek, because Clarke still won’t look at her. She sighs and steps back.

“Do you want me to leave, Klark?”

Clarke starts at this, quickly dropping her arms. She searches Lexa’s eyes, trying to figure out if this is a threat that Lexa will leave if she continues to act like a petulant child. But she sees only tenderness warming green eyes, and she shakes her head.

“No, please. Don’t go.” And her mouth drops open a little, when she sees the smile break forth across Lexa’s face, and it is huge and beautiful, and it lights up the room, and it touches every part of Clarke with its warmth. And if Clarke didn’t already love Lexa more than she ever could have imagined, she would have fallen madly, hopefully in love with her in that moment. Because she just beams at Clarke, and all of her love and hope and desire is spilling forth to fill the room; and Clarke simply wants to throw herself into Lexa’s arms and hold her forever.

“Oh. Oh,” she whispers softly, too entranced with the vision in front of her to really say anything else, to feel anything else, but the overwhelming need to be with Lexa, to wrap her in her arms, and never let her go. She wants to sink into her, crawl under her skin, live in the very beat of her heart. She can’t help but smile back, because Lexa is everything she never dared hope for, never imagined she needed and wanted.

And there really isn’t anything else to do but grab the slim hand that Lexa is holding out for her, and let the brunette pull her towards the bed, blowing out candles along the way. And she watches as Lexa pushes down the furs and gently guides Clarke to the side of the bed, furthest from the door. She helps Clarke slide on to the soft sheets, and she carefully pulls furs over, before walking around to the other side of the bed and climbing in.

Lexa lays on her side and leans over Clarke, gently running her fingers over Clarke’s face, memorizing every line and dimple and dip. She presses her lips Clarke’s cheek, and then rests her forehead there, simply breathing in the other girl, while she lets her hand trail down lightly over the bandages on her stomach.

“It doesn’t hurt.” It’s a lie, and they both know it. Lexa chuckles and taps the tip of Clarke’s nose, not bothering to point out that she knows it hurts. More than Clarke is prepared to admit.

Lexa tucks her head on to her arm, and gently cups Clarke’s cheek with her other hand, gently caressing the smooth skin. “Sleep, Klark,” she whispers.

“You know, orgasms are good for pain. Lots of endorphins.”

And Lexa laughs, because she should have known that Clarke wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Klark, an orgasm would cause you to tense your muscles too much, and arch your back. You might pull your stitches.” Lexa shakes her hand, she isn’t going to risk it.

“I won’t arch my back. I won’t move a muscle.”

Lexa huffs in amused exasperation, “Are you doubting my prowess as a lover, Klark? Are you saying that I can’t make you arch your back, can’t make you scream my name?” Her voice is low and husky, and she knows exactly what it does to Clarke, and she can’t help but smirk when she feels the slight quiver of Clarke’s muscles. She knows its mean, but she can’t quite resist.

Clarke carefully turns on to her side, barely restraining the wince as her muscles burn. She lets her hand find Lexa’s hip, and her fingertips flutter against the soft skin of the older girl’s hips. Her gown pools in front of her, revealing all of her leg to Clarke’s touch, and she groans when she realizes that Lexa isn’t wearing any underwear.

“Leska, you aren’t wearing any underwear, and that is just so unfair,” she whines a little and pouts, because this is just torture, and Lexa did it deliberately; no matter how she may protest.

“I’m sorry, Klark, I just prefer not to wear any underwear.” Lexa gives an embarrassed little shrug and leans in just enough to press her lips lightly to Clarke’s before pulling back and whispering, “I like the way the silk of my nightgowns feel against my skin.”

Clarke growls and surges forward, capturing Lexa’s lips with her own. She sucks her Lexa’s lower lip into her mouth, and bites down gently as a warning. She is done with Lexa’s teasing whether it is deliberate or not. She wraps her hand around Lexa’s hip and squeezes, and then slides her palm fully under her nightgown, and around to cup her bottom. She squeezes and kneads it firmly, pulling Lexa’s hips into her own, and enjoying the way Lexa’s breath escapes in a whoosh and pummels against the soft skin of Clarke’s neck.

Lexa enjoys the firm tugging on her flesh for a few moments, peppering gentle kisses along Clarke’s collarbone, before pulling back and raising her hand to Clarke’s shoulder. She gently pushes until Clarke lays on her back again. She shifts up when she feels Clarke’s left hand dig under her ribs, so the girl can slid her left arm under Lexa. She feels Clarke wrap the arm up around her and pull her into Clarke’s body so that she is almost sprawled across Clarke. But she pushes up and plants her hand on the other side of Clarke’s shoulder, so her body doesn’t come to rest on Clarke. As much as she yearns to press her body down into Clarke’s, she knows that it will cause her too much pain.

She nuzzles her face into Clarke’s neck, licking and sucking at the tender skin, just strong enough to leave a violet flush against the pale skin. She smiles and presses her mouth to Clarke’s, swiping her lower lip with her tongue, and she pushes her tongue into Clarke’s mouth the moment she opens it. She swallows Clarke’s surprised squeak, and instead explores the warmth of her mouth, tangling her tongue against Clarke’s, flicking the tip of it against the roof of her mouth. She wants to drink all of Clarke in, and she can feel the heat pooling between her thighs, and she doesn’t particularly want to be gentle or slow, but knows she needs to.

She can feel the way Clarke’s palm presses into the space between her shoulder blades, in an attempt to bring their bodies flesh together. She nips sharply at Clarke’s lips, and pulls back and shakes her head. Clarke huffs and gently traces her fingers up and down Lexa’s spine, no longer exerting any pressure.

Lexa drops her head and gently kisses and sucks the soft skin above the cut of Clarke’s night gown. She settles on her, pressing lightly against Clarke’s side. She curls her fingers around the top of Clarke’s nightgown, and pulls it down enough for her to press her face into the valley between her breasts. She breathes in the warmth of her skin, shivering when she feels Clarke’s hands come up to her head, and slide through her hair. She pulls the straps of the nightgown down, and pulls the top down to below Clarke’s breasts. But the pressure from the top of the nightgown acts as a corset and pushes Clarke’s breasts up, and Lexa smirks at the unintentional result.

She lowers her mouth, gently skimming her open lips across the skin of her breasts. She’s happy to see that Clarke’s pink nipples are already starting to perk up, and she can’t resist, as she is quickly losing the desire to tease herself with what she wants, and she wraps her lips around a nipple, gently drawing it into the warmth of her mouth. She grins when Clarke moans, and she gently rolls it around with her tongue, and then suckles firmly, causing Clarke to squirm and press her head closer to her breast.

She releases the nipple, smiling at how red and wet it is, and she blows air across it, causing Clarke to growl and tug at her hair. She shifts closer and licks along the rounded curve of her breasts, dropping little kisses along the way, until she feels Clarke dig her hand into her scalp, and direct her mouth to her other nipple. And who is she to say no? So she eagerly laves her tongue across the pink nipple, and nips at it with soft lips, before gently licking and sucking while Clarke squirms and cups the back of her head and presses her breast up into Lexa’s mouth.

It doesn’t take much before Clarke is a mess, and every part of her is burning, and she knows only Lexa’s mouth is going to relieve it. She tugs impatiently at Lexa’s hair and the push against her face, in a very clear indication of just where she wants Lexa most. She breathes a sigh of relief, when Lexa decides to have pity on her, and wiggles her way down on the bed, pulling up her night gown as she goes. She tenses though when Lexa hesitates, her fingers slightly scraping along the bandage on her abdomen. And Clarke just prays that Lexa won’t change her mind.

“Its fine, Lexa, beja,” she decides to be truthful, hoping that Lexa will reward her for her honest, “It only aches a little, not enough to stop. Please, I just want to feel you again.” She knows she’s begging, and she has viciously stabbed her own pride, because she is willing to do just about anything at this point to just make Lexa continue.

Lexa bites her lip. She can feel the anxiety rolling off of Clarke, and she bends down presses her lips to the middle of the bandage, before sliding her body over Clarke’s leg. She smiles when Clarke hastily opens her legs to allow Lexa to rest between them on her belly. She’s pushed her nightgown all the way up, letting the silk scrape against Clarke’s soft skin. She slides her palms underneath Clarke, grasping her bottom with strong fingers, kneading firmly as Clarke gently lifts her hips.

“No, Klark. Just lay back. I don’t want you to move your hips.”

Clarke grumbles but relaxes her hips and lets them fall back to the bed, resting in Lexa’s cupped hands. But the grumble soon turns into a breathless grunt, when she finally feels Lexa’s hot mouth against her. She knows she’s soaked, and her clit is pulsing and feels raw and hard. She knows she’s going to come embarrassingly quick, but she figures Lexa will forgive her. She closes her eyes at the first swipe of Lexa’s tongue, and she whimpers when she feels hot breath caressing the tip of her clit.

Lexa smiles and gently flicks her tongue against the head of Clarke’s clit that is peeking out from its hood. It’s obvious that she won’t have to coax it out, and she realizes this won’t take very long. She is disappointed, wanting to drag it out, but the longer she does, the more Clarke will be exhausted and more likely to pull her stitches.

So Lexa slides her tongue between Clarke’s lips, flattening her tongue and dragging it up her sex. She is rewarded with a few trembles and a long groan. She lightly circles her tongue around her clit, flicking over the head every now and then. She hums quietly, enjoying the taste of Clarke on her tongue. She kisses her clit, before sealing her mouth around it and suckling firmly. She pulls her hands out from under Clarke, and wraps them up over the top of her thighs, so that she can pin her hips down and keep her from moving.

She taps her clit with the tip of her tongue, while she still sucks. She knows it will make Clarke climax quickly, and normally she would build her up more, but she can see how violently her muscles are already twitching. She presses her tongue firmly against her clit and grinds down, and she is rewarded with a gush of wetness soaking her chin. She pulls her arm out from under Clarke’s thigh, because she simply can’t resist. She wants to be inside Clarke, and so she gently circles her entrance with one finger, giving Clarke plenty of warning, and when she hears the strained yes, she sinks her finger all the way in in one stroke.

Clarke groans loudly, her hands fisting in the furs. She tries not to heave, because she can feel her stitches stretching, and she wants to thrust up into Lexa’s mouth, but she knows she can’t, or Lexa might stop. She whimpers, and her legs tense and shake as she feels another finger press into her. She feels so full, and she groans when Lexa pulls out, and she suddenly feel empty, and tears sting her eyes, and then she gasps in relief when she feels Lexa sheath inside her again.

She twitches and digs her heels into the bed, because her clit is burning and pulsing and her toes and fingertips are tingling. She can feel the pressure building in her lower abdomen, and it feels uncomfortable and too full. And she is almost afraid of what is coming, because she doesn’t remember feeling this deep itch inside of her muscles, and she is sure her bones are glowing hot, and they will burn her from the inside out. She tries to breathe deeply, but she can’t, and instead she simply sobs. And then she cums with a loud gasp and groan when she feels teeth scrape against her clit that is still sealed inside Lexa’s mouth.

She feels the tears burn down her cheeks, and her hands clench into fists in the furs, and the pleasure burns white hot down into her muscles, and she wasn’t prepared for this, and her heart slams inside her rib cage, and her muscles are heavy, slumping onto her bones. She can feel her release slicking out of her, and she vaguely thinks through the fog in her brain that she might have actually soaked the furs under her. But her eyes are fluttering closed, and she can feel Lexa’s soft tongue gently licking her sex, tenderly soothing her through her orgasm.

She feels a strong arm slide under her hips, and raise her, and then she feels something cold hit. She isn’t sure what is happening, and then her hips are resting on soft furs. She realizes vaguely that this isn’t the same fur. It’s dry and warm, and a small smile twitches on her lips. She yawns and sighs when she feels warm lips press gently to hers, and soft furs are places across her torso. She can trace the salt of her release on Lexa’s lips, but she is asleep in Lexa’s arms, before she can fully process what is happening.

She drifts off to sleep, warm and happy, safe in Lexa’s arms, and she smiles, because even in sleep she can hear the whispered, “I love you, Klark.”

**Cameos: Jay = Jayenator575, Row = alisondilauhendrix, Gabrielas = Off2Polis, Sajiko = Sajiko, Panda = Banana-Panda, Samar = SafeSam, Cassico = Cassico, Elora = Elorafaith, Taylah = Taylah Cox/Radio-Dreams, Rayje = SummerStormWar**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...one last chapter, and then maybe an epilogue. Wow...it's been a hell of journey. Thoughts?


	43. Morning in Polis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a new morning in Polis!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey remember how I mentioned that there was only one chapter left? Yeah, I'm laughing too. So...yeah...more chapters to come. The "last" chapter was getting so massive that I've broken it down into multiple chapters. I feel like the last chapter was way too big at 16,000 words. So the remaining chapters (some of which are already written) will be between 6,000-10,000 words. 
> 
> Also...I don't know if anyone is interested in learning a bit about Clarke's time with Luna, and stories about a young Lexa...but yeah, this is where this chapter took me. Oh and cameos listed at the bottom!

 

Clarke groaned quietly as she carefully rolled over, trying to ignore the twinges that pricked deep into her muscles. She ached all over, but as she recalled the night before, she couldn’t find it in herself to regret it. She bit at her lip, feeling her cheeks flush as she thought about how tender Lexa had been with her the night before. And while she appreciated how gentle Lexa had been, she wanted more from Lexa, something harder, faster. She wanted to burn from the inside out, until she knew nothing but the feel of Lexa’s flesh, sinking intimately into her own. She sighed as she glanced over, trying to ignore the growing pressure between her legs.

She frowned when she realized that the other side of the bed was empty. She reached out and rubbed her fingers against the slight indent in the furs where Lexa had been. She frowned when she realized there was no lingering warmth from Lexa left on the furs. She grunted, and slowly dragged herself into a sitting position, glancing around. She narrowed her eyes when she noticed the sunlight filtering through the broken shutters and thin curtains along the big window. She had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t particularly early in the morning.

She yawned. She was still exhausted. Despite falling asleep in Lexa’s arms, her dreams had been…haunted. She had dreamed of the mountain again, and she realized that some of her aches this morning were probably more from moving around restlessly in the bed last night as opposed to being with Lexa.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing slightly as the muscles in her belly cramped. She grabbed the thin, shear robe that dangled off a chair and slipped her arms through it. She didn’t bother to tie it shut, realizing that any sort of pressure on her belly was probably going to hurt more than she wanted to admit. But she figured as long as Lexa didn’t notice, everything would be good.

She walked over to the window and drew the curtains back. She gingerly pushed the cracked shutters outward, wincing as they creaked on rusted hinges. She placed her hands on the rough ledge, and leaned out slightly. She inhaled deeply, smiling at the faint smell of brine tickled her nose. She had missed the sea since she had left Luna’s clan. In some ways it had reminded her of space, of home, and she had quickly fallen in love with it. She smiled, remembering the first time she had been on a boat so far from land, that the horizon was simply an endless blue.

_“So what do you think, Clarke?”_

_Clarke turned from where she had been gripping the rough, wooden railings and looked up at Joevin. She smiled nervously, willing herself to unclench the wood in front of her. She had been out on the boats numerous times, but this was the first time she couldn’t see land on the horizon or even the oil rig and grounded ship the clan called home._

_“It’s huge,” she mumbled, immediately feeling ridiculous at stating the obvious, but she didn’t know how to explain the uneasiness that had settled in her chest whenever she looked at the endless, smooth horizon. It seemed never-ending, and sometimes, forever could be far more frightening than not._

_Joevin chuckled and ran a large, weathered hand through his short, brown locks. He gazed thoughtfully at her profile, noting the way she bit at her chapped lips, the way her fingers dug into the splintered wood. He reached into his leather jerkin and pulled out his pipe and a small, worn pouch of tobacco. Tobacco was scarce, and he had traded a great deal of fish to the Island clan for a small chest of the plant. The Island clan grew the tobacco along the edges of the marshes that connected their small chain of islands and traded it in Polis. So he only smoked on special occasions or when he needed the silence and calm it offered._

_He carefully tamped the tobacco into the bowl of his pipe, making sure the shavings were even but not tamped too tightly. It was a process that he enjoyed, finding a certain measure of peace in the ritual. He walked over to the small, covered brazier that was nailed on to the deck floor, skirting around the barrels of sea water that could easily be tipped over in case of fire. He selected the smallest coal and lit his pipe, gently drawing the first puff into his lungs. He held it in his mouth for a moment, enjoying the mild taste before letting it whisper back out between his lips._

_He walked back over to the railing, standing far enough away to give the blonde space, but close enough to know that she wasn’t alone. He leaned his forearms on the railings, cradling the bowl of his pipe in his hands before he nudged Clarke’s shoulder and passed it to her. He smiled at her look of surprise as she gingerly took the bowl from him. She inhaled too sharply and coughed roughly before spitting over the railing._

_“Oh gaia! That stuff is awful,” she coughed again and tried to hand him back the pipe, but he refused and gestured for her to do it again._

_“Draw it into your mouth slowly, gently. Let it sit in your mouth for a moment, and then just open your mouth a little and let it trickle back out.”_

_She nodded and after a few moments, managing to understand the process. Joevin watched as her tense shoulders slowly dropped, and a small smile played around her lips. He nodded in satisfaction as they continued to pass the pipe back and forth._

_“It reminds me of space,” She whispered, “it’s endless. Nothing to break the horizon.” She shivered slightly but not from the sea breeze, but realizing that just like in space, she was merely a speck on an endless horizon. She was surrounded by nothing but blue, standing on a rolling wooden deck, the only sounds the creaking pulleys, flapping sails, water slapping against the sides, and the quiet shuffles from the man next to her._

_“You miss it,” he stated flatly, his voiced edged with just the slightest curiosity._

_“Sha. It’s funny,” she chuckled humorlessly, “while in space, all I dreamt of was earth. Of what rain would feel like against my skin, what it would be like to lay in the grass. What would it be like to someday look up instead of always looking down.” Her voice trailed off for a moment. He waited patiently._

_“And now that I’m finally here, sometimes I look up, and I just feel lost. This…” she gestured around her, “all of this is so much. It’s almost too much. The sounds and colors, the smells,” she chuckled and shook her head, “I’m still not used to it.”_

_“There is no sound in space?” He turned and leaned back against the railing, pushing his elbows back to rest along the railing, watching her out of the corner of his eye._

_“No, there is no sound. No color. Nothing lives in space. It is dark. Darker than the night down here.” She turned and looked at him, “There isn’t any oxygen in space. We would die instantly if the hulls of the Ark had ever been breached. We lived in a tin box in space.” She sighed and took another puff, enjoying the way the smoke curled in her mouth. “Humanity wasn’t meant to live in space, not among the dying stars. We dared to tread where gods reside.”_

_He nodded quietly, not speaking, accepting the pipe as she passed it back. He inhaled deeply this time, letting the warmth curl through his lungs before he tipped his head back and stared at the sky, letting his lungs push the smoke back out. He wondered idly, what it must have been like, and he shuddered briefly at the thought. He guided his vessel by the stars, but to live among them? He shook his head slightly. This Skai Girl spoke true. Humanity had been born on earth and was meant to die on earth to replenish and give back all that they had taken._

_“But sometimes, I wish I was still up there, when my dreams were just that…dreams without an end. Earth is not what I expected,” she muttered, her voice edged in bitterness._

_He nodded in understanding. He was quiet for a moment, just enjoying the peace of the sea around him. But he cocked his head when he heard a loud thump from below and a mumbled curse. He rolled his eyes briefly, as he heard feet stomping their way up to the top deck. He handed the pipe back to Clarke, and waited for her to finally turn and face him._

_“Clarke, it seems to me that while you lived in the sky, you only had one dream, because you knew nothing else.” He glanced around meaningfully, “but now….here…you can dream again, and it can be whatever you wish it to be.”_

_She bit her lip, glancing into his kind green eyes. She liked Joevin and his quiet ways, but she’d always had trouble meeting his eyes. They reminded her of another pair of green eyes that haunted her nights far too often. But as she gazed at him now, she realized his eyes were a few shades lighter, and she was sure that there might have been a hint of blue lurking in their depths. She nodded and smiled tiredly at him, as he clapped a large hand on her shoulder. She drew one last puff and handed him back his pipe, smiling in thanks._

_She turned around when she heard a small crash and muttered cursing, and she grinned realizing that Cas was finally up on deck. She watched as the young woman growled and kicked at the large coils of rope that she had managed to stumble over._

_The other girl groaned knowing that she would have to recoil the heavy rope. She snorted in disgust and looked up catching Joevin’s eye as he smirked at her. He tapped the end of his nose and stared at her, his green eyes twinkling in silent mirth. “You have a dangerously casual attitude sometimes, Casua. Always know where your feet are going before they arrive.” And with that he turned and made his way to the bow, whistling quietly, not allowing her to reply._

_“Bad morning, Cassy D?” Clarke smirked at the older girl, knowing that calling her by the nickname she’d given her would rile her._

_Cas growled at the blonde, but took a deep breath and glanced up from where she was bent over the coil of rope and stared hard at the smirking Skai Girl. “You know my name is Casua Daenga. Why must you persist in calling me this…this…” her lips twisted briefly, “this name?” She shifted and stood up, satisfied that the rope was coiled properly and ready to be used._

_She pulled her leather cap a little lower over her head, tucking her short, light brown hair behind her ears. She grabbed a couple of empty wooden buckets and upturned them onto the deck, not bothering to wait for Clarke to reply. She grabbed the heavy net draped across the wooden bars and set it at her feet before plunking herself down on one of the buckets. She flicked her eyes up briefly at Clarke and patted the other bucket._

_“Come, I’m going to teach you how to repair a net.”_

_Clarke nodded and sat down on the bucket, watching as Cas opened up a heavily wrapped leather pouch. Inside were needles and hooks of varying size and cordage. They said very little as Cas showed her how to cut the rotting cords around the holes and test the surrounding knots for weakness._

_“If a knot is weak, cut if off and tie a new knot. No use repairing a hole only for the older knots to be too weak to manage the stress on the lines. A net is only as strong as its weakest knot.” She carefully showed Clarke how to tie new knots, slightly impressed with how quickly she learned._

_Clarke watched as Cas’s long fingers moved between the cords, testing each knot. Sometimes she snipped a few knots off, and Clarke measured out new cordage to tie on new knots. The work was rather mindless once she had learned how to do it, and while her fingers fumbled and sometimes tangled in the cord; she realized that it was actually rather relaxing._

_She bent over her section of the net, replaying what Cas had said over and over in her mind. Occasionally she looked up at the girl. She didn’t know much about Cas, except she had the tendency to swear more than Joevin particularly liked; but she worked hard, and she understood the sea, and her patience with Clarke had been surprisingly endless. Her body was fairly slim, but lined in muscle she’d earned hauling nets up the side of the ship._

_Clarke wasn’t sure how old she was, definitely older than herself. She figured she was probably in her mid-twenties, but she knew that the clans didn’t keep track of birthdates like they had done on the Ark. She supposed that it wasn’t important down here to mark the passage of time in relation to oneself. No, what was important was the changing seasons, like getting ready for the oncoming Winter’s Breath._

_“I call you Cassy D, because it riles you up. I’m teasing you.” Clarke didn’t bother to look up when she said it, and she chewed on her lips nervously for a moment before continuing, “I tease you because you are my friend.” Her voice trailed off in a whisper, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw slim, tanned fingers still before continuing to tie new knots._

_“Then I shall call you Clarkey, friend.”_

_And Clarke laughed long and loud for the first time in months._

Clarke smiled wistfully and shook her head remembering those long months that she and Cas worked alongside each other on Joevin’s ship, the _Draco Dominus._ She had learned how to navigate by the stars, how to haul heavy nets, raise sails, and how to recognize and oncoming storm; but her favorite task had always been repairing the heavy netting. She found purpose in testing the knots and tying new ones. For if a knot didn’t hold, they were in danger of losing the fish that was needed to trade with other clans for things like clothing and fruit and vegetables.

She turned from the window, sighing quietly, wondering if she would see Cas and Joevin again, or the others who had helped her while she was with Luna’s clan. She straightened, forcing herself to stop thinking of the past when she heard the knock at the door. It was faint, but she carefully drew the robe a little tighter around herself, and walked towards the middle of the room to the table, calling out for the person to enter. She assumed it was Cassico or Elora, but she was surprised to see a stranger enter carrying a large tray of food.

“Good Morn, Wanheda,” the young woman smiled pleasantly and strode towards the table and carefully set down her tray. She stood next to the table, her hands crossed in front of her and smiled pleasantly at the blonde, who looked slightly startled.

“Oh uh…good morn to you also.” Clarke winced slightly when she said it, realizing that it was already late morning, and she had probably slept in too long. “Um…do you know where Lex…I mean where Heda is?”

The girl smiled and nodded and walked around the table to pull a chair out for Clarke. She smiled encouragingly, and pushed the chair in when Clarke finally sat. “Sha, Heda is meeting with her generals. She ordered the staff to let you sleep.” The girl busied herself with the bowls and plates, pulling them towards Clarke so they were within reach.

Clarke winced again, suddenly worried that the girl might think her weak, might think her unworthy of Lexa. But before she could open her mouth in an attempt to defend herself the girl continued.

“Do not worry, Wanheda. All of Polis speaks of your courage and strength in facing the Ice Queen.” She nodded as she set a small cake down in front of Clarke. “Polis is looking forward to welcoming Wanheda.”

“Please call me Clarke. I do not like to be called…” she let her voice trail off, and she shrugged uncomfortably. “What is your name?” She jerked slightly when she felt the gentle pressure of fingers on her shoulder.

“I am Krusten. I run Heda’s kitchens here in the tower.” She smiled at Clarke, “I will call you what you wish here inside Heda’s tower,” she shrugged and looked towards the window, “but out there, you are Wanheda. And the people whisper it in reverence. When they speak of Wanheda, they speak of the people she freed.”

“I freed no one!” muttered Clarke, her mood darkening.

“You freed my people, Clarke.”

“No, your Heda freed your people by making a deal.”

“Sha. She did. She did what she had to do for her people, but you…you freed the ripas from their madness. You freed our children from the fear of being taken by the mountain.” Krrusten grabbed a mug and poured hot tea into it and handed it to Clarke.

“Our Heda knew that the mountain couldn’t be trusted, that they would go back on their word. She knew they would continue to take from her people. She was already planning her next war when she walked away from the mountain.”

Clarke glanced up curiously, slightly shocked that the older girl seemed to know so much about Lexa. She frowned briefly wondering who this woman was that spoke so boldly of things that no one else seemed to want to speak.

She smiled slightly at Clarke’s confusion. “You saved her from sacrificing her people in another war. You saved us all. We are all indebted to you.”

Clarke opened her mouth in surprise, and then closed it when she couldn’t find the words to express her thoughts. Not that she understood the way her mind was suddenly rambling and tumbling over itself. She winced and set the mug of tea down and leaned her elbows on the table. She pressed the pads of her fingers into her temple, trying to relieve the sudden building pressure. Her skin felt cold and clammy, and she could feel her chest tighten with each breath. She clenched her eyes shut, but opened them suddenly and violently as she gasped hard, feeling the panic itching under her skin. For a brief moment she could only see red, endless bubbling red, and her nose was filled with the scent of ruptured flesh.

She shoved her chair back hard, rising quickly, and the room spun around her. She couldn’t believe she was going to have another panic attack. She hadn’t had one since before she had made her peace with Lexa. She bit her lower lip hard in anger, frustrated that she couldn’t control the swirling dread that was threatening to pull her under. She tried to count under her breath, begging her mind to stop the chaotic tumbling, but she couldn’t hear anything but the howls of ripas, and screams of the dead echoing in the spaces between her ribs.

She clenched her hands tightly into fists, her breath rattling in her chest, and try as she might, she couldn’t seem to expel enough air in order to inhale. She was vaguely aware of strong hands cupping her elbows and gently bringing her to the floor. She could hear whispers, but she wasn’t sure if it was in her head or from people around her. She wanted to scream, and she didn’t recognize the hands that held her firmly but gently or the smooth voice that coaxed her back.

Her throat tightened, and she was sure she was going to die, and despite knowing she was having a panic attack, she couldn’t seem to cling to that knowledge. Her heart slammed in her chest and she gasped for air, the tears burning along her throat. And then she felt other hands pressing into her skin. The warm hands gently grasped hers and a gentle voice called to her. She collapsed into the strong arms, burying her face into the other person’s chest. She shuddered, and the tears dripped down her face, and she was finally able to take a breath and then another as her body slowly relaxed.

When she could finally breathe again, she pulled her face back and stared up into worried green eyes. “Leska,” she barely choked out. She jerked in Lexa’s arms at the sound of her own rough voice, and she coughed into her arm, clearing her throat after a moment.

“Leska…I don’t…I….” her voice trailed off, and she ducked her head in shame. She had been weak, letting the panic attack get the best of her. She was so tired, and she felt drained, empty. She felt broken, and the salt burned her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Heda. This is my fault.” Clarke looked up in surprise at Krusten, her eyes widening when she realized that there was another woman standing next to Krusten. She realized it must has been this person who had held her until Lexa arrived. She gazed at the stranger, noting the intricate swirled tattoos in various shades of blue on her face. She was older than all of them in the room, and Clarke guessed she was in her mid-thirties, despite her hair being a brilliant shade of white. She was strong limbed and was obviously a warrior.

“No, this isn’t your fault, Krusten.” Clarke turned to look at Lexa, suddenly anxious that Lexa might be angry with the other girl. She knew how protective and even jealous Lexa could be. “This…it’s a new place, Leska. And with the trial…” she shrugged again, looking away from Lexa, not wanting to meet anyone’s gaze.

Lexa sighed. She actually wasn’t too surprised. Abby had warned Lexa that just because she and Clarke had made peace, and the trial was over; that Clarke wasn’t fully healed. Clarke’s journey back to full healing was going to take time and patience.

She carefully extricated herself from around Clarke and rose to her feet. She held out both hands to Clarke, not bothering to care that others could see as she gently drew Clarke to her feet and wrapped her arms around her. She pressed a gentle kiss to Clarke’s temple, breathing in the younger girl’s scent.

“It’s ok. This isn’t entirely unexpected.” She smiled gently when Clarke pulled back slightly in confusing, searching dark green eyes. Clarke bit her lip and nodded. Lexa was right. She leaned in briefly, dusting a kiss along Lexa’s chin before regretfully pulling out of Lexa’s arms.

“Like Lexa said, this isn’t entirely unexpected, Krusten.” She lifted her chin and stared at the other girl, taking a deep cleansing breath, “but I would appreciate it if you would not speak of this to anyone.” She relaxed slightly when Krusten bowed her head murmuring her agreement.

Clarke smoothed her clammy hands down the front of her robe, trying to fight against her embarrassment. She could feel the heat settling in her cheeks, but she refused to be cowed by her own panic. She stared at the newcomer, raising one eyebrow, “and you are?”

“Crispin, Wanheda,” she glanced quickly at Lexa who nodded to her. She bowed her head and then looked back up at Clarke. “I am your personal guard, Wanheda.” She didn’t flinch when Clarke scowled at her, and she bit back a smile when Clarke turned sharply towards Lexa, and her Heda swallowed hard.

“Lex…” she stopped quickly, taking a breath suddenly remembering that those in the room with them were part of Lexa’s clan, not Clarke’s friends, “Heda, I do not believe a personal guard is necessary,” Clarke stated carefully, not wanting to undermine Lexa in front of her people, but also not enjoying the idea of someone tagging along behind her at all times.

“Klark, this is your personal guard,” Lexa stated firmly, refusing to bend on this. “If you prefer, I can assign you more personal guards?” Lexa raised an eyebrow slightly in challenge, but she felt warmth flood her chest when Clarke slowly nodded and assented.

“Klark, I’m sorry, but I have to return to my meeting.” She sighed regretfully and stepped closer to Clarke, before hesitating and turning to Crispin, thankful that Krusten had retreated to the other side of the room and was busying herself near the great fireplace.

“Crispin, please return to the council room and inform the generals that the emergency has been settled and I will return shortly.” Once Crispin had retreated as bid, Lexa focused her attention on Clarke again. She wrapped her arms around her gently, tugging her into her body. She could feel slight trembles still clinging to Clarke’s muscles, and her heart ached knowing that Clarke still felt the pain of her actions all those months ago.

“Klark, I…”

“No, Leska. No more apologies,” Clarke looked up and pressed her mouth gently to Lexa’s, enjoying the way their mouths slotted perfectly into each other. She hummed lightly and opened her mouth, when she felt a warm tongue brush against her lips. She pressed closer into Lexa’s body, ignoring the twinges in her muscles. She could feel warmth flush along her thighs and into her belly, and she groaned in disappointment when Lexa stepped back. But she smirked when she realized that Lexa was breathing a little faster and harder than normal, her cheeks slightly flushed.

Clarke flicked her tongue against her lips, the excitement coiling in her chest at the way Lexa’s eyes widened and tracked the movement of her tongue. “Something wrong, Heda?” She murmured as she let her fingers scraped against Lexa’s pants, just above her groin.

Lexa growled lightly and caught the wandering hand. “Now is not the time, Klark,” but she leaned in and pressed one last heated kiss against Clarke’s mouth. “But soon.” She stepped back, squaring her shoulders. “I will be done with the meeting soon, and then perhaps you would like to explore Polis?”

Clarke smirked at the affect she had on the normally stoic commander. But the smirk quickly morphed into a smile, and she nodded her head eagerly at the thought of exploring Polis. “Sha. And Raven and Octavia and Monty and the others can come?”

Lexa smiled briefly and nodded, “Sha. They can come. I will have the guards make the arrangements.” She stepped forward, firmly cupping Clarke’s elbow as she steered her back to the table, pulling her chair out for her. “But first, you need to eat.” She smirked when Clarke rolled her eyes at her, and she pointed to the small cake sitting in front of her. “This is honey and nut cake. It is very good. You will like it.” She waved her hand at Krusten who had slowly made her way back to the table, “Her cakes are the most famous in Polis.”

She nodded at Krusten, and then squeezed Clarke’s hand briefly, wanting to do more, but knowing she’d already revealed more than she probably should have in front of Crispin and Krusten. Despite knowing that neither would ever speak of what they had seen, it still made her slightly nervous to have revealed the depth of her panic and care when she’d burst into the room to find Clarke in the violent throes of a panic attack. She doubted either would ever judge her. She had known Krusten since they were children, and Crispin had a young wife who’d been taken by the mountain and turned into a ripa, only to be rescued by Clarke and healed by Abby. It was why Crispin had asked to be Clarke’s personal guard. If it hadn’t been for Clarke, Crispin’s wife would have been lost to her forever.

Lexa walked out the door with one last look at Clarke. She nodded to Crispin who stood near the door, stopping briefly to stare at her, letting her feel the weight of her gaze. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to, she knew Crispin understood, and she smiled slightly, when Crispin nodded gravely and murmured, “With my life, Heda.”

Once Lexa had left, Clarke turned her attention to the food. She looked down at the small cake, inhaling the sweet scent. There was what appeared to be a bowl of some type of porridge or mush, a smaller bowl filled with brightly colored pieces of fruits, and a small plate with small strips of meat on it. She glanced up when Krusten approached the table.

“I’m sorry, Clarke, I didn’t mean to…”

But Clarke interrupted her before she could continue, “No, Krusten, this isn’t your fault,” Clarke sighed for a moment before continuing, “I did not sleep well last night.” She shrugged, “I dreamt of the mountain, and that is never good.”

“Sha, Clarke.” Krusten pushed away her guilt for the moment and slid the small plate of meat towards Clarke, “Try this…it is boar and very good.” She made herself busy pointing out the food, explaining what it was and where it came from as Clarke started to eat.

“How do you know, Lexa.” Clarke deliberately chose to ignore her title, realizing that Krusten was more than just the woman in charge of Lexa’s food.

Krusten smiled, and when Clarke gestured for her to sit, she sat down and told her how she and Lexa met as children in Polis, outside her mother’s shop.

_“Out with you, goufa,” muttered the woman as she gently pushed her young daughter out of her shop. She had too much to do today with Krusten being underfoot. Normally the girl would be helping her make pastries and cakes to sell in the market, but the trials had ended last night, and a new Heda had been chosen; and tonight a grand feast would take place in the courtyard of the Heda’s tower. The merchants would all bring gifts that they had made to honor their new Heda and pledge their loyalty, and everything had to be perfect. She couldn’t afford any mistakes today._

_Krusten sighed, her small shoulders slumping in defeat. She had begged her nomon to allow her to help prepare the special cakes for the Heda’s feast tonight, but her nomon had refused. But when she saw the rejection so clearly etched in her child’s eyes, she had relented slightly and pushed a honey and nut cake into her small hands and ordered her outside._

_Krusten leaned her head back against the dirty, broken wall of one of the old grayish buildings that sat on the outskirts of the center of Polis. It was broken and crumbling, part of the giant wall around Polis. She sat in a small room, carefully hidden from the eyes of the gonas, behind some giant broken slabs. She didn’t think anyone else knew of this small, sheltered room, accessed only by a short tunnel. Anyone walking by wouldn’t be able to see inside, probably wouldn’t even realize there was a small room in the wreckage._

_She sat up straighter when she heard scrabbling along the slabs, and she clenched her hand around a broken piece of concrete, trying to still her breathing as she heard someone crawling through the small tunnel. She relaxed slightly though when she saw a mane of wild, brown hair pop through the hole, quickly followed by small shoulders and long legs._

_The other girl halted, crouching in the opening of the tunnel. Fine rock dust clouding around her. She waved a hand in front of herself trying to clear the air. She stared in surprise at the other girl across the small room from her._

_“Who are you?” asked the small girl with her back against the wall._

_“I asked you first,” replied the stranger as her hand went to the dagger strapped around her small waist._

_Krusten snorted, “No, you didn’t. You didn’t say anything. I asked first.” She still had her hand wrapped around the piece of concrete, and she felt a shiver of apprehension when the other girl shifted slightly, angling her body so that she could quickly draw her dagger._

_The other girl stared at Krusten defiantly, her dark green eyes gleaming in the few rays of sun that had managed to filter through the cracks above them. “Fine,” she bit out. “I’m Lexa.”_

_Krusten nodded and decided to trust this stranger. She was obviously someone’s Seken, judging from the dagger she had her hand wrapped around, and the light armor she wore. “I’m Krusten. This is mine,” she gestured around the room._

_Lexa snorted and stood shuffling a bit until she could sit on a long slab that jutted out into the room. “This is Heda’s,” she stated confidently as she looked around, “all of this is Heda’s.”_

_Krusten shook her head defiantly, her brown eyes sparking at this intruder. “No, this is MINE. Heda doesn’t own everything. Heda doesn’t even know it exists.” She glanced around, biting her lip. This place was her refuge, it was her tiny little place away from the noise and smells of Polis. She glanced worriedly at the other girl._

_“It’s small and broken,” she shifted nervously. “Why would Heda want this? Heda wouldn’t want this, right?”_

_Lexa stared at the small girl, realizing that she was genuinely upset at the idea that Heda would take this away from her. She looked around the small room; noticing the half burned candles, pouch of water, the small pile of leather pieces and cord, small trinkets that she didn’t immediately recognize, a couple of tattered books, and ripped sheets of linen for writing._

_The smaller girl’s eyes were glistening suspiciously, and Lexa looked away, not wanting to shame the other girl for her tears. She finally looked back at Krusten and shrugged not meeting her eyes. She shifted on the slab, wincing as the movement pulled at the stitches on her back. She had noticed this place a few weeks ago, when she had snuck out of the barracks and explored Polis at night. She knew that no one would recognize her, just assuming she was another Seken. When she had arrived in Polis a couple of years earlier, she had been relatively sheltered from life outside of the tower and training grounds. She knew few people beyond those who trained her._

_“Are you hungry?”_

_Lexa was jerked from her silent musings, surprised to see that the girl was holding out half a cake to her. It was clear the girl had broken it in half. It wasn’t very large, as the cake was small to begin with. She gingerly accepted it, slightly surprised that the girl would share with a stranger, especially as the cake was barely big enough to appease even one belly._

_“Mochof,” she muttered as she looked down at the cake, noting the honey that was dripping on her fingers. She realized that the cake was stuffed with something, and she caught the inside in her other hand before it could hit the floor. She shoved it inside her mouth, her eyes widening in surprise as the sweet taste of chopped nuts and fruit coated her tongue._

_“Good isn’t it? My mum makes the best cakes in Polis,” the smaller girl stated matter-of-factly. She had devoured her half already and was busy licking the honey off her fingers. Once she had judged her fingers clean enough, she picked up one of the thin books near her. She held it out gingerly._

_“Want to read with me? I found these sealed in an old crate. They have lots of pictures and words. They are all in English. I’ve been teaching myself to read,” she shrugged and gestured for Lexa to come closer._

_Lexa licked her fingers, her hunger slightly appeased. She gently lowered herself next to Krusten, their shoulders pressed together as they hunched over the thin, cracking pages of the book. “Heda, won’t take this from you,” whispered Lexa as she continued to stare the small pictures with the fading colors and smudged words._

Clarke stared at Krusten, her mouth hanging open slightly, before she shook her head and chuckled. “And you had no idea she was the Heda?”

“No, I didn’t find out until later that night at the feast, when she was officially given the Heda’s sash.” Krusten smiled as she took the fruit Clarke offered, and bit into the firm flesh.

“And did you ever meet again? In your space?” Clarke leaned forward, her hands cradling the still warm mug of tea. She felt warm and content as she listened to Krusten speak softly of the years growing up when she knew Lexa as only Lexa.

“Sha, sometimes. Whenever she would find those little books, she would bring them to me, and we would sit and read them together,” She sighed quietly, sadly, “but after Costia…well, Lexa was never the same again.” She looked up at Clarke, staring meaningfully at her, “until now.”

Clarke glanced down at her tea, feeling the weight of the other girl’s gaze. “Thank you,” she murmured without looking up, and when she felt the warm fingers close around hers and squeeze gently, she didn’t jump or jerk away.

“I should clean this up. Heda is probably almost done with her meeting,” Krusten stood and smiled down at Clarke, “I am so glad you are here, Clarke. But now it is time to get ready. Polis and her people await.”

**Cameo’s in order: Joevin = Joeyvin the Dragon Master, Casua Daenga/Cas = DangerouslyCasualAttitude, Krusten = Krusten, Crispin = Crispy75**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thoughts? What did you think of the flashbacks? Do you want more, or would you prefer the rest of the story just stay in the present? And next chapter will have more Clexa, and there will be some Raven showing up. 
> 
> Cameos in order of appearance: Joevin = Joeyvin the Dragon Master, Casua Daegna/Cas = DangerouslyCasualAttitude, Krusten = Krusten, Crispin = Crispy75


	44. Morning in Polis cont.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the title says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! So this isn't my best chapter. I had a little trouble with it, and it when somewhere I hadn't entirely planned on. Buuuuut...something kind of interesting happens. Something Clexa. No, not that! Get your heads out of the gutters! Yeah, that stuff will be in a later chapter.

By the time Clarke finally made her way out of her room, the sun was hanging high in the sky. She winced realizing it was much later than she had intended, but then she shrugged. If someone didn’t like it, they could just deal with it. Today, she was going to finally explore Polis and hopefully learn about all those parts of Lexa that she sometimes had trouble expressing. Somehow she knew that Polis itself was probably a reflection of Lexa.

She quietly made her way down the hallway, Crispin falling into step with her, just far enough away to give her some semblance of privacy, but close enough to reach her in a moment. She nodded at the guards who tipped their heads in respect. She tried not to quicken her pace when she heard footsteps fall in behind her. It made the hair stand up on the back of her neck, but she took a deep breath reminding herself that these guards had been hand chosen by Lexa herself. She glanced at Crispin who nodded slightly at her, unconcerned about the number of guards that were now following them. She glanced up again, watching as two guards nodded and then turned and fell into step a few paces in front of her. She sighed, realizing from the sounds of the footsteps that there were probably at least six guards now surrounding her in a loose formation, aside from Crispin. She would definitely need to speak Lexa about it.

They finally made their way to the elevator, and she smirked when she realized she had indeed been right. She tried not to roll her eyes when she was pressed up against a young guard as eight of them tried to squeeze into the elevator. She glanced up into his face, trying not to laugh as he valiantly fought the blush staining his youthful cheeks. She frowned as she looked back down at her hands, as the elevator jerked and slowly started to descend. So young, and yet so trusted by Lexa. Despite the blush coloring his cheeks, he had probably already fought in more wars than she wanted to think about.

She glanced around at her guards, noting that they ranged in ages from the young man who was around her age to those who looked more around her mother’s age. They were all armed with various weapons: swords, daggers, bows, even a few weapons that she assumed were shortened spears, and one weapon that looked like a giant hook. They wore various pieces of blackened armor and hardened leather guards on their wrists and arms.

None met her gaze, carefully keeping their gaze averted, but she didn’t think it was out of fear or even loathing, but more out of respect. She fiddled with the cuffs on her jacket, shifting as the elevator slowly creaked and groaned under their combined weight. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if the chains gave way. She snorted muttering under her breath, “Damn Lexa would have to live at the top of this monstrosity of a tower.”

Her head jerked up when she hear the slightest cough or snort. Maybe it had even been a chuckle. She glanced up, tilting her head thoughtfully when light eyes met hers head on. The guard didn’t smirk, but a tiny smile played about the edges of her mouth. She was older than Clarke, but only by a few years, she guessed. She was average height, and her eyes were light in color. Perhaps blue or gray, she couldn’t make out the details very well in the dimmed light of the elevator.

“And you are…?” She realized it probably sounded rather pertinent, but she refrained from wincing in the face of the warrior.

“Tippin Tu.” The warrior shuffled a bit and thrust out her arm in greeting. “Well met, Wanheda.”

Clarke smiled slightly and grasped the woman’s forearm, “Well met, Tippin Tu.” She frowned briefly as she let the woman’s arm fall to the side. “Tu…?”

The youngest warrior, blush still staining his cheeks, leaned down slightly and muttered “Tu. She is two, cuz there are two of her.” He laughed this time, and Clarke immediately felt the somber atmosphere in the elevator shatter as the other warriors started shuffling and thrusting their arms out for her to grasp.

She smiled and clasped each one, trying to keep their names and clans straight. She feared that she wouldn’t be able to tell them apart in their armor and with war paint staining their chins and foreheads. But as she looked closely, she realized that their war paint wasn’t war paint, but were tattoos, and each had the same tattoo on their foreheads and chins. And each tattoo was new, the skin reddened and cracked around the ink.

She stared openly at their faces, and this time each met her gaze. Each had what appeared to be a star tattooed in the center of their chin right below their bottom lip, and six vertical bars in sets of two running from their hairline to their eyebrows. But as she stared harder, she realized that the bars were actually squiggles and lines and circles that she was sure meant something important, but she couldn’t interpret them.

“You aren’t just guards are you?”

An older warrior, slightly grizzled looking with a scar running down his cheek shook his head slightly. His voice was rough and guttural, but Clarke found it strangely soothing. “We are your Jusgonas. We wear the mark of Wanheda.”

“My mark?” She chuckled, but the laugh fell flat, and she felt her chest tighten in anxiety. “I wasn’t aware that I had a mark, a symbol.”

“Heda will explain it to you, Wanheda. And the ceremony will be completed at the end of festival.” His lips cracked into a small smile, revealing a chipped tooth, and Clarke found it slightly endearing for some reason as she glanced up into his dark eyes. She let her gaze run lightly over his barrel chest, and she leaned in slightly, her nose wrinkling. There was something about his smell. Something smoky and warm.

She pulled back in embarrassment, and when she looked up and met his gaze again, she saw understanding there. He carefully reached out and pressed two fingers lightly over her heart and then raised his hand in a fist and brought it to his forehead, then his chin, and finally to rest over his heart. “With my life, Wanheda, Clarke kom Skaikru. With my life.”

The elevator lurched to a stop but no one moved. The six warriors stood in a semi-circle around, and then Tippin Tu reached out, placing two fingers against Clarke’s heart, and then repeating the same ritual as the older warrior.

She stood there in half shock, half amazement, as one by one each warrior repeated the small ritual. And when it was done, they stared at her waiting quietly, patiently. And she felt the tight coil in her chest release, and she let her breath out in a whoosh, not realizing she had even been holding. She nodded, still unsure at first how to respond. What was the rest of the ritual? Would she offend them?

She took a shaky breath and smiled. She brought her fist up to her mouth, but then at the last moment flattened and kissed her own palm. She placed her palm against the smooth, worn leather of his jerkin, and she felt the warmth of his chest spread flush against her palm. “In this life….” She waited for him to say his name again.

“Bia kom Trikru.”

She nodded, pressing her palm more firmly over his heart, “In this life, Bia kom Trikru, and in the next.” She let her hand drop, hoping she had done right by him, hoping he would understand the promise that she was making to him, that the spirit of Wanheda would watch over him and those he loved. She smiled slightly in relief when he nodded solemnly at her, almost reverently as he bowed his head again before stepping back.

And each one stepped forward, and she repeated her promise: Tippin Tu of the Singing Clan, Hudson Canya of the Boat Clan, Hannon of the Desert Clan, Hattera of the Island Clan, and Ogun of the Stone Clan.

And once she had finished, she finally turned towards the door to the elevator and waited while Bia, Hattera, and Hudson slipped out first to secure the immediate vicinity. She smiled wryly realizing she would probably need to get used to having her own warriors. But as she stepped out, she turned and tapped Tippin lightly on the arm, and once the woman acknowledged her, she blurted out what was foremost on her mind.

“I’m sorry, I don’t get it. I mean,” she chuckled, “what Hudson told me. Tu. You are tu?”

Tippin nodded, eyes twinkling. “Sha, Wanheda, I am…how do you say? Twin?” Once Clarke nodded, her face suddenly clearing of confusion, Tippin continued, “I was born after my older brother.” She chuckled, “I was born right after him. My nontu said that I was fought him in the womb to be first, but I came second. So I am number tu.”

The woman leaned down and whispered conspiratorially towards Clarke, “But I have never been tu since then. I always beat my brother.”

Clarke chuckled and nodded, but her brow furrowed slightly as she wondered what it might have been like to grow up with a sibling. The idea was anathema to her, and while she supposed that she shouldn’t miss what she’d never had, still she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she had missed out on something significant, something special; for despite Tippin’s light bragging, she had heard the deep abiding affection in her voice when she mentioned her brother.

She straightened her shoulders with a minute shake, pushing the feeling away, as she walked out into the courtyard, immediately spotting her friends clustered in a ragged circle as they talked quietly, the low drone of their words punctuated by the occasional laugh. She hesitated for a moment just watching them, drinking in the sight of them.

Abby was talking quietly to Lexa, her shoulder occasionally brushing against Kane’s arm in a manner that spoke of ease and familiarity. Clarke smiled slightly noticing if for the first time, realizing what it was when Kane glanced to the side to smile at Abby and then returned to his conversation with Indra. She couldn’t fault her mother for it. After all, earth was meant to be about new beginnings.

She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the cool air tinged with just enough warmth to keep her from shivering in cold. She let her gaze lazily drift again over the assembled group, smiling when she saw Bellamy talking with a Trikru who was showing him something in his hands. Something that looked like a plant of some sort. Bellamy was nodding in earnest, carefully touching the leaves.

Monty and Raven were arguing and laughing over something that she was sure she wouldn’t understand, but it warmed her heart to see them looking happy and even relaxed. Monroe and Octavia were standing with Lincoln and a group of young warriors, sekens she assumed, and they appeared to be showing each other their weapons, judging from the amount of flashing metal shining in the sun as it moved from hand to hand.

She waited for a few moments, basking in the warm sun and cool breeze. Drinking in the scents of trees and dust that hung in the air, the laughter of her friends as it filtered into every nook and cranny of the courtyard. She let her gaze wander over Lexa, as she stood with her back to her twenty feet away. She bit her low lip as she gazed as the toned arms peeking out from a sleeveless leather vest. She let her gaze linger for a moment on the trim waist and the round curve of her bottom encased in what Clarke was sure were the most sinful leather pants known to man. Her gaze didn’t travel much further south because Lexa turned, perhaps feeling the weight of Clarke’s gaze, and smirked at Clarke, a knowing glint twinkling in her eyes as she made her way to Clarke.

“Hello, Klark, how are you feeling?” She came to a halt a couple of feet in front of Clarke, her arms behind her back, cupping her elbows, more to prevent herself from reaching out to touch Clarke and draw the blonde into her arms, as opposed to trying to maintain an authoritative but casual pose. She briefly tightened her grip on her elbows, reminding herself that this was not the place to touch Clarke, but her skin tingled with the urge to reach out and stroke the other girl’s skin, and her muscles shook minutely with the effort to restrain herself.

Clarke raised her hand briefly, seeing the small turmoil clouding green eyes, but she let her hand drop between them before it could reach its goal, suddenly all too aware that the drone of voices had petered out slightly, and there were far too many people standing around attempting to look busy, but failing miserably.

“I’m well, Heda. I’m sorry that I am late. I guess yesterday took more out of me than I was aware.” It was a small lie, an attempt at creating a false sense of security so she wouldn’t have to dwell on what had happened earlier in the morning; so her friends wouldn’t question why she had actually been late. She knew Lexa would recognize it for what it was, and the brunette nodded slowly in acceptance, understanding that the incident was not open for discussion with her friends.

“So…,” her voice trailed off meaningfully as she eyed Lexa, who quirked an eyebrow at her, not quite able to discern the look on Clarke’s face.

“So…I thought I had only one personal guard, and now I suddenly have six Jusgonas and Crispin?” She wanted to cross her arms over her chest and tap her foot at Lexa, but she settled instead for folding her hands in front of her and glaring slightly at her. Her glare had no real heat behind it, but it was just enough to make Lexa squirm slightly, and the older girl had the grace to blush slightly before straightening and letting her Heda mask slip into place.

Clarke groaned as soon as she saw Heda, knowing she was not going to be able to convince Lexa that six more guards were unnecessary. And while she was slightly irritated that she would have more guards, she recognized the act for what it was, one of the few ways that Lexa could show the world her love for Clarke.

“They aren’t just guards, Klark. They are warriors. They are your warriors, your messengers, your guardians, your blades. They answer to you, they are sworn to you. They are some of my most skilled and trusted warriors. They all can fight with numerous weapons. They are trained in stealth and healing, in survival at all costs. They are yours. They are Wanheda’s. The ceremony will be completed at the end of the festival.” She tilted her head slightly, looking up at Clarke from beneath her lashes, knowing that it would make it harder for Clarke to resist. She stepped closer, leaning in slightly.

“Beja, Klark,” she murmured, “Please don’t fight me on this. This is…I need to…I mean…this…” she took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. “This is how I love you, by offering you my very best,” she mumbled, heat staining her cheeks.

Clarke bit her lip, and this time she let her hand find Lexa’s waist, and she squeezed briefly, enjoying the feel of pliant flesh beneath her fingertips. “Ok. I get it,” she smiled at Lexa’s shocked expression, knowing that Lexa had assumed she would put up more of a fight, “and they aren’t all bad. I kind of like them.” Clarke laughed at Lexa’s shocked expression.

“They aren’t meant to be your friends, Klark,” Lexa sighed in slight exasperation, but she couldn’t stop the smile from lingering on the edges of her mouth. And she chuckled when the blonde rolled her eyes at her.

Lexa turned back to the small, milling crowd and waved them closer explaining that they would be going on a short tour of Polis, and she knew some of the Skaikru had made requests wanting to see specific areas of Polis.

She smiled slightly as she stood before them, hands folded in front of her. “I understand that some of you were interested in the fields and the crops we are currently growing?” She looked at Kane who nodded eagerly.

“Yes, Commander, we noticed many fields of grain on the outskirts of Polis, and we are very interested in learning how to accomplish large scale farming.” He tugged thoughtfully at his beard, “Right now we have only managed to farm small gardens, which we’ve supplemented with hunting and trapping.” He briefly gestured towards the market, “and as you know, we’ve managed to set up trade routes with some of the clans, but we need to set up sustainable farming.”

He smiled genially at Lexa, and she couldn’t help the small smile that twitched at the corner of her mouth. She liked Kane. He was a leader, a peace maker like she, and he truly cared for the well-being of his people. “That can be arranged.” She gestured towards one her guards, “Talon will take you out the West Gate to meet the Principal Tila, Freyla. I have told her to expect Skaikru at some point. She will be happy to show you her fields and her future expansion plans.”

Kane smiled, clapping his hands once, and nodded to Talon who had come to stand next to him. He reached out and briefly cupped the bottom of Abby’s forearm, squeezing lightly when she smiled and nodded at him.

Lexa turned to Bellamy and Octavia, “I assume you two would like to see the training grounds? Indra can take you there,” she nodded to Indra was interrupted by Bellamy.

“Actually, Commander, I would like to join to Kane in checking out the fields.” Bellamy shrugged at Octavia’s look of surprise. “Might be nice to grow something for a change,” muttered Bellamy.

“Good, Bell. Well, Commander, if you don’t mind Bellamy and I will head off to the fields.” He nodded and followed Talon out of the courtyard, talking animatedly with Bellamy as Talon simply nodded once in a while, no doubt unsure what to make of the Skaikru.

“Commander, I would love to see the infirmary that you mentioned last night. Nyko and I have been training quite a bit with each other, but he tells me the infirmary is larger, and there is even some old equipment that we might be able to make use of.”

Abby turned to Clarke, pulling her in for a brief hug. “Good morning, darling.” She stepped back, pushing a few strands of hair out of Clarke’s face. She grasped Clarke lightly by the upper arms as she turned and looked towards Lexa.

“Would you mind very much, Commander, if I stole Clarke from you for a bit? I would like her to accompany me to the infirmary.” She squeezed Clarke’s arms lightly, when she felt the blonde take a deep breath to protest.

Clarke let her breath out in a bit of a huff, recognizing the look her mother had given her. It was obvious she wanted to speak to Clarke, and as much as she wanted to explore Polis with Lexa; she knew better than to argue with her mother. And as much as she was reluctant to admit it to herself, she was slightly curious about the infirmary.

Lexa nodded her head to Abby, swallowing back her disappointment, but she certainly couldn’t deny a mother her daughter’s company. “Of course, Abby, I look forward to hearing about what you both think of our infirmary. I’m sure that we can work together to make it better. There is a lot of old equipment that has been salvaged. I’m hoping you might be able to help us get it working again.” She smiled ruefully, "Not to mention teach us how to use it.”

She turned expectantly towards Raven and Monty, unsurprised to discover that Octavia and Monroe had already left with Indra for the training grounds. The three of them simply stared at each other for a moment, none quite sure how to proceed.

“Well looks like it’s the three of us for now, huh, Commander?” Raven shifted, trying to ignore the way the brace bit into her skin. She was exhausted from the night before, not having slept well. Memories, many of them painful, had plagued her throughout the night. Normally she would have gotten out of bed and tinkered with a radio or part of an engine, but as she had sat up in the bed, she’d realized that she was simply too tired. Too worn out.

Her relationship with Wick had ended a few weeks earlier, and while she missed him, she knew it was for the best. But it didn’t ease the dull ache of loss that sat in her chest, making it a little harder to breathe. She was so tired of always losing. She sat there, fiddling with the rough hem of a woolen blanket when there had been a light knock on her door.

She’d been more than a little surprised, even fearful, only to feel foolish moments later when she realized that if anyone had intended to harm her, they probably wouldn’t have knocked.

She’d been surprised when Peregrine had stepped through the door, the young woman explaining she’d seen the candle light from under her door. What she didn’t tell Raven was that she’d been compelled to check on the Skaikru girl, pulled by some unseen force. She’d noticed the girl at the trial and then again at the summit. She had been unable to get Raven out of her mind, so when she’d seen the candlelight glimmering from under the door, and had felt the uneasy pull, she’d decided not to deny it any longer.

They’d sat on the bed together, talking about this and that, talking about nothing, and yet everything. The candles had burned low, and finally Raven’s eyes had closed in sleep, unaware when Peregrine had pulled the blanket up and tucked her in. She didn’t feel the brush of warm lips against her forehead, but still she smiled in her sleep.

“Perhaps the two of you would like to see the market?” Lexa tried to hide the uncertainty in her voice, her voice ending almost on a note of surprise when she saw Raven’s head jerk up quickly, almost as if she’d been pulled violently from a memory. She liked Raven, having spent some time with her, but she’d had few interactions with Monty in the past. She did remember though that he had been influential in helping set up the gardens at Camp Jaha, so she was somewhat surprised that he hadn’t joined Kane.

“Yes, that would be great, Commander. Harper’s birthday is soon, and I would like to find her something in the market.” Monty tapped the small leather satchel against his waist, “I was told that bartering is the form of currency usually used.” He smiled worriedly for a moment. “I hope I have something worth trading?”

Lexa nodded and smiled slightly, “Do not worry, Monty, I am sure that whatever is in your satchel will be more than enough to get what you desire.” She nodded in finality, and gestured for Monty and Raven to precede her. She pointed them down the biggest dirt road leading straight out of the courtyard. “I will be with you in a moment. The guards will show you the way.”

She waited a brief moment for them to start walking down the road, guards trailing them, before she turned to Clarke expectantly. “We will be gone for a few hours. Tippin Tu will bring you back to the courtyard to meet us and then we can all eat at local inn, The Little Dragon. It is the best eating house in Polis.”

Clarke smiled and turned back to her mother. “You go on ahead, I will meet you in a few minutes. I just need to speak to Lexa about something.” She rolled her eyes at her mother’s knowing smile, not bothering to deny what the “something” actually was.

Clarke glanced around, biting her lip, realizing that there were still people milling around the courtyard. A man was on his hands and knees, scrubbing at the granite steps that led up to the tower, a couple of boys were helping repair part of a wall, and guards stood upon the walls and at the gates. She grabbed Lexa’s wrist tugging her over to a shadowed corner behind a row of hedges.

“Klark, what are you…” but her protest was quickly cut off by warm lips pressing against her own. She sighed into Clarke’s warm mouth, sliding her arms around the younger girl’s waist. She pressed her body against Clarke’s, enjoying the warm curves pressing against her own plains and angles. She protested when Clarke pulled back slightly, and she pressed forward eagerly, trying to kiss her again. But her lips scraped against Clarke’s chin instead.

“Klaaark,” she whined as she angled her head again, her lips scraping along a pale jaw, nipping lightly while she let her hands drift lower, palming Clarke’s bottom and pulling the girl into the cradle of her hips.

“Leska,” muttered Clarke as she felt the familiar warmth slowly growing in her belly. Her head felt foggy and heavy as she felt Lexa’s warm lips brushing trails of moist warmth down her neck. She would never understand how it was that Lexa could turn her into a pile of sappy mush so quickly and so efficiently. She had given up trying, and just accepted that around Lexa, she would always feel this familiar warmth flush across her skin and deep into her muscles.

Lexa huffed, squeezing Clarke’s bottom and smiling against the warm skin of her neck when she heard the other girl draw in a shaky breath. “You started it, Klark.” She bent her head low, nosing at the collar of Clarke’s shirt, and nipping and licking at her collar bone. “I’m just finishing it,” she mumbled around a mouthful of sweet flesh.

She growled a little when Clarke pushed gently against her chest, but she reluctantly pulled back to look up into warm, adoring blue eyes. And she melted against Clarke, wrapping her arms tighter around the blonde. She nosed into the warm skin of her neck, and let her head rest on the younger girl’s shoulder for a moment. Quiet and content to simply hold and be held.

Clarke smiled and ran her hands up and down Lexa’s back, enjoying the weight of the other girl sagging against her. She pressed a kiss against the older girl’s temple, basking in the moment. She was safe here. Loved. Happy. She pulled Lexa’s chin up and brushed her lips against Lexa’s again, only to pull back lightly. She nibbled at the older girl’s plump lips, but wouldn’t let Lexa deepen the kiss no matter how she tried.

“I missed you,” she whispered against Lexa’s lips. “You weren’t there when I woke up this morning,” her voice was low and gentle, and she barely managed to keep the trace of hurt out of her voice that still lingered from when she’d woken alone, realizing that Lexa had returned to her own room sometime in the early morning hours.

Lexa pulled back, searching blue eyes, and she smiled sadly when she found the hurt she’d been looking for. She leaned her forehead against Clarke’s, “I’m sorry, Klark. I had to be up early, and it isn’t fitting for Heda to spend the night, no matter how she may want to.” She sighed, feeling the weight of her leadership heavy upon her shoulders. She didn’t know how to explain it to Clarke.

“So I suppose that means I’m not allowed to share your room?”

Lexa jerked back in surprise and eyed Clarke carefully. She took a deep breath in an effort to steady her voice, “Is that something that you want?” She bit her lip, trying not to look too hopeful, but when she saw Clarke’s brow furrow, she realized that Clarke didn’t understand the significance.

“Only Heda’s bonded or soon to be bonded may share their room,” she whispered, not daring to meet Clarke’s gaze. She held her breath, unsure of what Clarke would say, and she prayed Clarke couldn’t hear the pounding of her heart that reverberated against her rib cage.

Clarke stared at Lexa’s profile, stared at the pulse in the girl’s neck that she could see fluttering wildly like a caged butterfly. She bit her lip and leaned forward, tightening her arms around the girl. She pressed her lips against her pulse, and sucked gently, gratified when she felt Lexa stiffen and then melt back into her embrace.

“Is it what you want?” Clarke cupped her cheek, holding it gently in her hand, letting her thumb sooth over the slash of the girl’s cheekbone. She didn’t turn her face to meet her own, instead waiting for Lexa to make that choice.

Lexa gulped and turned her head finally meeting Clarke’s gaze again. “Sha, Klark. I don’t ever want to be without you again. I want you,” she whispered, “in this life and in the next.”

Clarke smiled and cupped both of Lexa’s cheeks drawing her to her. She pressed her mouth against Lexa’s, before pulling back. “Then you should tell the hand-maidens that I won’t be needing my own room anymore. From now on, I sleep with Heda.” She kissed Lexa again, “With Lexa.”

Lexa crashed their lips together, not caring that the kiss was sloppy and messy, with far too much teeth. She could barely breathe, the wild storm in her chest threatening to break against her ribs. She could feel the wave of laughter soaring up through her chest and when it burst out of her mouth it took her by surprise in its joyous ferocity, but Clarke’s own delighted laugh matched hers, and nothing else mattered.

They held tightly to each other kissing between soft murmurs of love meant for no one else, until they finally pulled apart almost breathless. “We will announce it tomorrow night at the feast.” Lexa beamed at Clarke as she held her hands in her own before raising them and pressing wet kisses to each knuckle.

“And you will tell the hand-maidens?”

“Sha. I will send a messenger now,” Lexa sighed quietly and wrinkled her nose. “As much as I do not want to leave you, there are people waiting for us. We should go.” She squeezed Clarke’s hands and turned tugging her with her, but she was stopped when Clarke reached out with her other hand, grabbing Lexa’s wrist.

“Leska, what about the other clans? What will they say? Will they be angry?” She bit her lip, suddenly worried that her moments of joy would be ripped from her. She grit her teeth in sudden anger. She would not let them. She would fight for Lexa. But would Lexa fight for her? She glanced up apprehensively.

“Some of them might,” Lexa answered honestly. She stepped closer cupping Clarke’s cheek and pressed their foreheads together, “But they can fall in line, or they can fall under my sword,” she promised grimly. “Nothing is going to keep me from you.” She kissed her on the forehead, “Never again.”

Clarke nodded and squeezed Lexa’s hand. “Good. Well, I guess I should go find my mom, before she comes barging through here looking for me.” She leaned up once again and kissed Lexa before hurrying off to find her mother.

Lexa smiled, her lips tingling from the brief kiss. She called for one of her guards to relay a message to her handmaidens, before she re-entered the courtyard and followed the road to the market with her guards.

It only took a few moments for her to catch up with Raven and Monty who were walking slowly, their hands gesturing in the air as they spoke excitedly at everything they saw in the market. The market was made up of alleys of dirt paths, and mostly wooden stalls and some cloth tents lined the pathways. The dirt was tamped down, and very little grass grew, just a few hearty blades that hadn’t learned to give up yet. There were a few ramshackle buildings of stone and broken cement and brick that were being used for stalls, and many of the vendors stood outside their stalls, their arms full of their wares as they each vied for customer’s attention. There were furs from the North, and spices from the South, wooden toys from the Trikru. The stalls were filled with hanging meats, baskets of colorful fruit, leather jerkins, brightly woven blankets, tattered books, braided rope, long strands of hanging garlic, and the market simply went on and on as far as Raven could see.

“Polis is the center of commerce for the twelve clans. Even when the clans were at war, Polis was a safe haven. It was where the clans could trade for vital necessities that they couldn’t grow or make themselves.”

“Was it always so big? So loud?”

Lexa shook her head. “No, it has grown since I have become Heda. It is safer now,” she murmured. She stated it as a matter of course, her voice devoid of any emotion. But she couldn’t deny the pride that bloomed in her chest at what she had helped create here.

She gestured away from the market, down hill. “The wharves are down there, and more trading is done there for food from the sea.” She smiled slightly and wrinkled her nose, “The smell can be a bit overwhelming, so the fisherman don’t usually bring all of their trade into the market directly.”

Raven laughed and nodded, “I would like to see it, if that is possible?”

Lexa nodded and continued as they made their way through the market, “The infirmary is off in that direction, as is the academy. We can see those later if you wish?”

They continued on and Monty was able to successfully trade for a present for Harper. The market started to thin out and they came to long tall buildings. The roofs were mostly gone, and the buildings were made from cement and stone. They were broken and patched, ramshackled and old, and they represented a time before the bombs. They continued on through one of the buildings, and instead of stalls, there were shops built into the building. Shops with doors and roofs.

“Many of the goods sold here are considered more valuable. Some have historical significance,” Lexa gestured to some of the shops, until they came to halt in front of a non-descript, weathered door. The sign above was slightly faded, but Monty could still read it.

“Comic Geek?” He turned to Lexa who merely arched an eyebrow at him. “I think this shop might interest you both.” She gestured for them to precede her into the crowded shop. There were shelves behind glass lining one wall, and the other wall had open shelves that held trinkets and odds-and ends, and in some cases, what looked like part of electronics.

Lexa smiled slightly and gestured to the woman who stood up from a display she’d been re-arranging.

“Jesya, this is Tila Monty and Raven. Raven is the Principal Tinka and sits on the council. Skaikru, this is Jesya of the Plains Clan. She is a friend of Krusten’s.” Raven turned, hearing the unspoken words that Lexa couldn’t say out loud.

Monty smiled at the woman with the coffee gold skin and warm brown eyes, he gestured excitedly, “This is amazing!” He glanced around, his eyes dancing excitedly as he eagerly drank in the shelves filled with odd trinkets and dusty books, but his impatient gaze quickly returned to the long row of glassed cases that held small, thin, aging magazines.

“These are comic books, right? From the old world?” Raven leaned over Monty’s shoulder from where he knelt in front of the glass, trying to refrain from pressing his fingers to the bubbled glass. He couldn’t make out all the titles, but he gasped when he recognized a few from the few comic books that had been saved on the Ark.

“Sha, Raven,” the woman nodded respectfully, “I collect many things from the old world, but I also create puzzles and games that help challenge young minds.” She smiled, showing even white teeth and gestured to her shop, “all of these items are used to help young warriors think and train to be tacticians,” she glanced quickly at Lexa and then leaned in towards Monty and whispered, “of course these games are also fun, but do not tell Heda that.” She smirked as she glanced up and smiled at Lexa, who simply quirked an eyebrow at her, while attempting to hold back her own smile. Her friend was charming if nothing else.

They spent a few minutes looking around with Monty excitedly exclaiming over the various comics as he and Jesya pulled a few from the shelves. “Well, we should continue,” and Lexa turned awkwardly towards Raven and Monty gesturing towards the door.

“If you don’t mind, Commander, I would like to stay here and continue chatting with Jesya,” Monty picked up a small board game recognizing what appeared to be a chess set, although just dissimilar enough to make him question.

“Of course. I will see you both later at the feast then,” and Lexa turned and left quickly followed by Raven who almost slammed into her as Lexa came to a stop outside the door. Raven just barely managed to keep her balance.

“Uff, really, Commander? Couldn’t give a girl a little warning? I almost fell on my ass,” grumped Raven, “It’s hard for a gimp to get herself back up again, ya know,” Raven sassed at Lexa who stared at her quizzically.

“Gimp? I do not know what this gimp is?” Lexa stared curiously at the mechanic, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched her maneuver her way around Lexa to stand next to her.

Raven grunted feeling the twinge in her leg from her abrupt halt outside the door. “Yeah, gimp. As in cripple?” She snorted again and then muttered under her breath, “as in useless.” She turned to walk back into the alleyway, when she felt a strong hand clamp down on her arm, bringing her to a complete halt. She didn’t bother to turn but heard the Commander’s low, hard voice very clearly. And she could only imagine how those dark green eyes were probably glowering at her.

“Gimp? Cripple? Worthless? You are none of these Primary Raven kom Trikru,” Lexa shook the brunette’s arm lightly, “You are a warrior, a brilliant tactician, and you are highly regarded by both the Skaikru and Trikru. Do not let me ever hear one of my greatest warriors speak so ill of herself. I will not stand for it. You sit on my council. You are needed.”

Raven felt the tears burn her eyes and her throat close swiftly. She could barely breathe. Primary Raven kom Trikru. She knew that “Primary” was only reserved for leaders of clans, and not every leader of every clan. “Primary” was an honor, a sacred commitment that had to be earned, and only the Heda of the 13 clans could bestow the title. She was no longer just Raven, the skinny girl who was constantly under-fed; the girl who had been rejected more times than she had been accepted; the girl who had always had to fight harder and longer for her own measure of happiness; the girl with the crippled leg.

No, she was Primary Raven kom Trikru, world-builder, trusted warrior and friend. She belonged.

She nodded sharply, not daring to turn and look back at Lexa.

“Good.”

They stood there silently for a moment, neither saying anything, and then they both chuckled breaking the silence when they heard the voices waft through the open window.

“These comics are beautiful.” Raven smiled when she heard his hushed, almost reverent whisper filter through the open window. “So have you ever head of video games? Well, we have these games on the computers at the Ark, and we have a controller, and we can control the figures in the games. Make them fight and find stuff. It’s really fun.”

“Fun, eh?”

“Sha, fun. I mean it also teaches you stuff too. I mean there is this one game called Life is Strange, and I mean, it was created before the bombs dropped, but wow….it’s really fitting. Harper doesn’t like to play with me. Says she’s already lived it. But maybe you would be interested, you know?”

Raven chuckled at the sound of Monty’s eager voice. God knew he needed a friend to do that type of stuff with. He hadn’t really shown much interest since Jasper had died, and it was good to hear the nerd in his voice breaking free.

“So, we could think of it as a cultural exchange of ideas of how best to utilize the tools we have at our disposal, in order to help our people become more effective and efficient warriors?”

Lexa snorted at the sound of Jesya’s voice. Leave it to Jesya to manage to figure out a way to play a game and make it sound like she was doing research for the good of their people.

Raven shook her head and turned and looked at Lexa gesturing back towards the hut, “Those two…match made in geek heaven.”

Lexa smirked and nodded, “Come. I have something I want to show you.”

“Lexa…” Raven trailed off as she stared at the commander who simply waited patiently for her to continue, “I…I mean… what you said…I well…I am proud to be Trikru. Thank you,” she whispered, relieved when Lexa only nodded and gestured back down the alley.

“This way.”

Raven walked beside Lexa, her eyes flitting from right to left, trying to take in all the sights. She was mesmerized by the cobbled lanes, many broken in small places and uneven, but still reminiscent of a world before; that wound between huts of stone and earth and wood. Some homes appeared to be built into the sides of small hills. She could see small gardens behind some of the homes, and she thought perhaps not everything that grew in them were for food, but also for beauty. She smiled to herself, leaning her head back and chuckling. This was the earth she had always dreamed of.

Lexa watched Raven out of the corner of her eye, pleased to see the tinka relaxing and enjoying herself. She was important to Clarke, and so was important to her also. She nodded to the villagers and gonas who stopped what they were doing to stare and nod in respect before returning to their work. She casually watched the side lanes, every once in a while seeing a fleeting shadow or two. Even in Polis, her jusgonas did not rest, although she hoped that Erika had heeded the word of her Heda, and was spending time with Kellan.

Slowly they ambled their way through the curving lanes, past the market and towards the docks. But they veered off to the west from the docks and continued on their way for a few minutes until Raven saw the large windmills and waterwheels at the mouth of the small river.

“You use wind and water power,” Raven stated in excitement as she glanced around eagerly. “Do you also have electricity?”

“Sometimes,” replied Lexa, as she gestured towards a large hut situated between two giant windmills. “It isn’t very reliable, and we do not have many civilians who understand how to harness the power. Most of what we know is from the few books that are left.”

“Sou Terro, Arshuk!” Called Lexa as they approached the large hut. Raven stopped, glancing around at the large water wheels that were slowly turning the water. Three of them were very large and attached to the sides of small huts. She thought these might be the ones that intermittently provided electricity. Two smaller water wheels were built inside of two huts. The doors were open, so she could see that they were turning what appeared to be a large pedestal. She could see what appeared to shocks of grain stacked on the outside of the huts.

She picked her way over, and peered inside; surprised to see a few men and women slowly feeding grain between stones. Raven quickly realized that the grain was being ground between pedestals. She smiled. So this was how they made their bread. She jerked her head up when she heard Lexa call for her, and she casually waved to the workers who all smiled and nodded respectfully to her.

Raven made her way back to Lexa and nodded to the two young women who stood in front of Lexa. They appeared to be around her and Lexa’s age.

“Primary Raven, this is Sou Terro and Arshuk. Arshuk designed these wheels, and Sou Terro is responsible for trying to make sure that the electricity produced is routed to the necessary areas in Polis.”

Raven nodded and grasped Arshuk’s offered arm. She was small with dark golden skin and dark eyes. “Welcome to Polis, Primary Raven.”

Raven jerked her head up and gazed in surprise at Lexa, who simply nodded to her. Raven smiled back, and then gestured to the water wheels, “This is impressive. I would love the chance to study your designs. The smaller wheels are for grinding grain?”

“Sha, Primary, we also have other wheels down near the docks, which are used to help melt down ore, so we can use it for blacksmithing. The bigger wheels here are for the electricity,” she shook her head, “the designs aren’t perfect, and we have had a lot of trouble producing a steady connection.” Arshuk gestured towards Sou Terro, “she is the one though that understands more about routing the electricity to the courtyard and to the assembly buildings.”

Raven nodded, “I might be able to help, Arshuk, but I would need to see the designs and see the actual mechanizations.”

Sou Terro nodded, “Sha, Primary. We can show you everything,” and she and Arshuk both nodded. Sou Terro offered her arm to Raven, “Well met, Primary.” Raven couldn’t help but smile at the girl with the short black hair and round face whose eyes sparkled.

“Mochof, Sou Terro. So you are the one who routes the electricity?”

“Sha, Primary. The electricity is routed to the courtyard at night, some of the assembly buildings, and to the infirmary. The infirmary is the most important. We have some equipment there that was salvaged from the old war, and we were eventually able make use of some of it, but without a steady connection…” her voice trailed off as she shook her head.

Raven nodded and turned to Lexa, “Abby and Clarke might be able to help with the infirmary. And I might be able to help with stabilizing the connection. Can we take a look at it now?” She glanced at the two women who nodded eagerly.

“Very well, I shall leave you here then, Raven.” She turned and beckoned to two guards lingering near the water wheels. “Daynare and Elias will accompany you back to the courtyard when you are done here.”

Raven nodded at the two guards, eyeing the numerous blades strapped to Daynare’s torso. She had even more than Octavia, which was an impressive feat, and she bore the geometric tattoos of the Singing Clan around her wrists and collarbone. Elias, who wore the linens and strips of leather of the Desert Clan had a short sword strapped to her waist, but carried a thick staff, which Raven assumed was her actual weapon of choice. She also had a tattoo on her shoulder of a young child’s handprint. It was beautifully done, and Clarke imagined it was probably her child’s handprint.

The two guards nodded respectfully and then fanned out to keep a more watchful eye on the women and their surroundings. While Polis was relatively safe, as it was both a haven for refugees, but more importantly the center of all trade; there were always rogues to worry about.

Raven spent the next few hours buried in schematics and checking out the waterwheels and windmills. It was only when she was pouring over parchment and charcoal, making notes on new designs that she finally became aware of Sou Terro and Arshuk nudging each other and jerking their heads in her general direction.

Without looking up from the formula she was carefully writing out she directed her question in their general direction, “So…is there something you want to say or ask me?” She readied for the question about her brace, but was surprised when neither spoke, but she could hear them shuffling their feet. She finally stood up with a muffled groan from where she had been bending over the table. She threw the piece of charcoal down and crossed her arms over her chest, “Well?”

With one last glance at Arshuk, who nodded eagerly, Sou Terro cleared her throat awkwardly trying to figure out how best to ask such a delicate question, but instead she ended up blurting it out anyway in a muffled rush, “Wewanttobeyousekens!”

Arshuk face palmed and groaned pushing at Sou Terro’s shoulder, who swatted at her. They quickly quieted though when Raven finally got over her initial shock.

“You want to run that by me again? A little slower and clearer this time?” She asked in amusement.

“Sorry, Primary,” Arshuk gave a short bow, but quickly straightened when Raven rolled her eyes and waved her up.

“Stop with the Primary stuff. Call me Raven.”

Both young women beamed at each other and nodded. “Raven, we would like to become your Sekens.”

Raven was more than a little surprised, and her face must have revealed such, as they both hurried on trying to talk over each other.

“If you ask Heda, she will allow it.”

“We can learn much from you.”

“You could learn from us.”

“Please ask Heda.”

Raven laughed and held up both hands. “Let me see if I understand you correctly, you both want to be my Sekens, or apprentices, and you want me to ask Heda?” She bit her lower lip at their eager nods. She sighed and leaned against the table, unconsciously rubbing her leg.

“Why?”

“Why?” They stared at her in confusion.

“Sha, why?”

“B-because, you are Raven. The Raven. They say you can bring down bridges with liquid fire. You helped tear down the mountain.” Arshuk gestured around her, her voice slightly awed. She didn’t seem to notice Raven’s wince at her words.

“You let them take a bullet out of your flesh without anything to help numb the pain,” continued Sou Terro.

“You are loyal to your friends. You are strong. Worthy. We could learn much from you that would benefit out people.” Arshuk smiled as she stared earnestly at Raven who stared back in surprise.

“We would be the very best Sekens,” murmured Sou Terro, “we can teach you our ways, and we could build new irrigation systems, stabilize electricity.” She smiled eagerly, “Think of what we will build together!”

Raven stared at the two eager faces of the young women, and she couldn’t help but smile back. She could see it now. Both women were highly intelligent and imaginative. They had already accomplished so much, with so little. They had many things to teach her, and she them. She nodded.

“Sha. I will ask Heda,” and she chuckled when they both enthusiastically hugged each other and then her. Soon the three were bent over plans, talking excitedly about a brave new world they would help build.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thoughts?
> 
> Cameos: Tippin Tu = Tipsy2, Jesya = ComicBookGeek1818, Arshuk = Arshuk, and Sou Terro = soulterror, Daynare = Daynare, Elias = DarkBlueMint


	45. AUTHOR'S NOTE: PLEASE READ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it isn't a chapter, but please read anyway.

Hi guys, My apologies that this isn't a chapter, but I am working on it, along with some Wayhaught fics.

Normally I would never do this, but some of you may know, and maybe many of you don't, but the MTV Ship of the Year voting is happening right now. Clexa is currently losing, and it appears that a number of fandoms have joined together to outvote the Clexa fandom. This is Clexa's last year to be eligible for this award. This is the fandom that raised over $130,000 for the Trevor Project, erected billboards, put together a fanbook, and started a social movement. I don't know about you, but I want to go out with a bang!

Voting is easy. Head over to Tumblr and reblog and like the clexa ship of the year. You can easily find it on [MTV Ship of the Year](https://www.tumblr.com/search/MTV) Once there, type in "Clexa" in the search on MTV's Tumblr, and it will bring up the voting page. Notes=votes, so reblog and click on the heart! You can also find it on my tumblr: Bae-In-Maine. You can probably find it anywhere on Tumblr if you search for Clexa. 

You can also retweet the same Clexa ship on Twitter for votes. You can find the voting tweet pinned to the pages of @clexasource and my twitter @BJMeservey81.

Have fun voting!

Cheers,

Jude.


	46. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet more of the residents of Polis, Lexa learns a shocking truth about Costia, and Clexa makes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, 
> 
> I know it's been a long time, but here is a new chapter! This chapter is dedicated to Blueskkies, who has been one of my most loyal readers and commenters. Blue has been reading this almost from the beginning, I think. Happy Birthday, Blue, I hope it is wonderful. Also...your cameo is back. :)
> 
> Angus is an original character owned by Kendrene. She was kind enough to let me include him in my story.

Lexa slowly made her way back up the hill, nodding to the people who stopped to acknowledge her. She kept her hands behind her back, her head up, but her eyes constantly scanning the area. She knew there probably weren’t many threats in Polis, but complacency had killed a few past Hedas. She had too much to live for now, and she would be damned if something as simple as inattention would be her downfall.

She continued down the alleys, her guards following silently, far enough back to give her privacy, close enough to assist her if necessary. As she crested the rise, she heard shouts and laughter rising and dying in a tumult of children’s voices. She smiled a little and veered off the main alley, slipping between small buildings until she came to a small, dirt packed arena. She leaned against the building in the shadows, watching as small bodies ran back and forth kicking a heavily stitched leather ball.

She remembered years back, when she used to sneak out of the tower when she was their age, and would hide in the shadows wishing she could join in their games. But she was Natblida, heir to bloody legacy, and she had no time for games or laughter. But still she’d yearned to run, to feel the jolt of kicking the ball, to feel the oxygen burn in her lungs as she darted back and forth trying to steal the ball from better trained feet. But she had never joined in their games, instead slinking back into the tower, head bowed, salt burning her eyes.

She was jolted from her thoughts at the sound of leather thumping before her, and she looked down in surprise at the ball that rolled to her feet. She stepped gracefully out of the shadow watching as the kids who had run after the ball, slowed and slid to a stop. They stood twenty feet away, their small chests heaving, their long hair plastered to their sweaty foreheads, their cheeks blooming dozens of roses. She could smell the dirt and sweat on their skin, and she loved them, each and every one of them despite not knowing their names. They were her’s. Had always been her’s, even when she was a Natblida, and different children ran on the same packed earth. They’d been her’s then also.

“Heda. Will you kick it, Heda?”

She snapped her gaze to the child in question who had bravely stepped out of the ragtag group. Her hair was mostly in braids, some of it having come loose. There were streaks of dirt on her sweaty cheeks, and her light colored eyes gleamed. She was maybe eleven, all gangly legs and arms, and she reminded Lexa of herself at that age, except her eyes hadn’t gleamed then, they’d already been dulled by heart-ache, and laughter hadn’t been permanently etched in the corners of her mouth. No, she’d already drawn first blood by then.

She glanced down at the ball again and then back to the girl, “What is your name, strikon?”

“Dagny, Heda.” The girl have a jerky half-bow, as if unsure of the proper protocol to greet her Heda, whom she had only ever seen from afar.

“And how far should I kick it, Dagny?” She stepped closer to the ball, placing her right foot carefully on top. She rolled it with the ball of her foot, getting a feel for it. She squelched down the sudden nerves that fluttered in her belly at the thought of having to kick a ball to the girl. She realized with resigned shock, that she’d never really kicked a ball before.

The girl smiled and suddenly took off at a run, until she stopped about a hundred feet out. She waved both hands over her head, “Here, Heda. Kick it here.”

Lexa turned and looked at the children who suddenly took off running back into the arena, getting ready for her to kick the ball to Dagny. She took a deep breath, backed up, ignored the fact that as Heda she probably shouldn’t be playing ball with the strikons, ran and kicked the ball. She watched in excited awe as it sailed into the air, and landed just a couple feet from Dagny, who quickly corralled the ball.

“Thank you, Heda!”

And Lexa laughed as the children called their thank you’s to her as they took off passing the ball back and forth, their young bodies shoving and pushing each other out of the way. She turned away, the small smile firmly etched upon her face, and she walked back down the alley glancing up briefly at the lean wolf who slipped from the shadows and fell into step with her.

“Don’t say anything, Angus” she hissed.

He smiled in silent amusement, the hard angles of his face softening briefly in the dim light, “I would never, Heda.”

She smiled wryly, “Oh, shof op.”

***********************************

She stepped into the building, walking quietly down the halls, her feet tripping against the faded carpets. She had no idea what color they had once been, time and use had stripped them of everything leaving behind dull, thin gray shadows but the world before bombs. She kept walking, ignoring the silence in the hallway and eyeing the flickering candles that were spaced every two feet and set in small metal cages along the wall. Every few hours someone came by and replaced the candles.

She kept going, the only sounds her feet and Angus’ as he followed a few feet behind. She saw a glow at the end of the hallway, and she smiled when she heard voices filter through the silence in the hallway. She gestured for him to stay behind in the hallway, and she continued the last few feet into the room that was better lit than the hallway with dozens of lanterns on the wall casting a soft glow about the room. There were old lights hanging from the ceiling, and when the electricity did work, they were normally alight. But with the river low, the energy output hadn’t been stable enough to generate the lights. But she was optimistic that Raven could change that with the help of Sou Terro and Arshuk.

She smiled at Clarke and nodded at Abby and Nyko who were standing around a bed talking quietly. She walked around the room that held a dozen beds and seven patients. She stopped at each one, speaking quietly to the occupant, sometimes pushing hair back from small, fevered brows. She hated seeing the beds occupied by such small bodies, and she promised herself she would do better, would fight harder for peace and prosperity so they wouldn’t have to suffer.

She stopped at one particular bed, knowing she shouldn’t show favoritism, but she couldn’t help it. She sat on the edge, glad that he was asleep. She rested her elbows on her knees, staring quietly at him, sorrow shading her eyes.

“Leska.”

She looked up and smiled at Clarke as she walked over to her, resting her hand on her shoulder. They both looked down at the young patient, no more than four. She stroked her hand down his cheek, biting her lips as she gazed at the cast on his arm. Her fingers hovered just over the gash in his cheek that had been carefully stitched. First blood. Wren had drawn first blood on her youngest Natblida, Declan, and it had pained her when the young boy had looked up at her stoically, trying desperately to hide the tremble in his lips. She had wanted to wrap her arms around his slim body and protect him from his destiny, but instead she had nodded to him and sent him off with one of her warriors to the infirmary.

“How is he?”

“He has a fever, probably a bit of infection, but Nyko showed mum the herbs to give him, and he’s resting easier now.”

Lexa nodded as she gently placed her hand on his small chest. She remembered all too clearly when she had arrived in Polis. She wasn’t the oldest Natblida, and it was some time before she met the rest of them. They didn’t all train and live together, and those that she had trained with, she hadn’t understood who they were, or what purpose they served until she met them in a foggy, barren wilderness on the day that changed her life forever.

“Nyko says he is a Natblida?” Clarke reached out, slipping her hand underneath Lexa’s hair, cupping the back of her neck. She turned her body, so that she blocked her movements from her mother and Nyko’s view. Lexa nodded, not bothering to say anything more. Clarke had already learned much of the truth about how Hedas were chosen, and she had been horrified by it, but had not pressed Lexa for details.

“He is so young, Leska.” She barely whispered the words, struggling to not let her voice break, not to show her horror and sorrow.

“I know.” Lexa turned her face into Clarke’s body, letting her forehead rest against Clarke’s stomach, taking solace in the comfort of her love, knowing she didn’t deserve it. Those two words said more than she ever could, her voice laden with pain and guilt.

Clarke said nothing more. There wasn’t anything more to say. She wrapped her arm around Lexa’s shoulders, drawing her tighter into her stomach, ignoring the pain from the pressure of Lexa against her healing wound. She didn’t want to draw Lexa’s attention to it, knowing it would just worry her more, and she would be apt to try and keep her in the tower, or at the very least curb her exploration of Polis.

Lexa sighed quietly, enjoying the quiet moment, basking in Clarke’s quiet strength. She pulled back a bit to look up at Clarke and smiled, grasping Clarke’s hands in her own. She ran her thumbs across the knuckles, then raised each hand to her mouth grazing the knuckles with her lips in a silent benediction.

“I have to get you a bonding mark.”

“A bonding mark?”

“Sha, like an emblem that shows that you are my bonded,” Lexa hesitated for a moment, her brow furrowing in sudden worry, “I mean…would you like that? It is customary to exchange emblems…” her voice trailed off as Clarke didn’t reply, and she bit her lip and looked down. “You don’t have to,” she muttered.

Clarke smiled and grasped Lexa’s chin, pulling it up. “I would be honored, Leska, to wear a bonding mark. And you would wear mine also?”

Lexa nodded eagerly, pushing aside the worry of how the council would react when they heard. Hedas weren’t meant to be bonded, weren’t meant to love any one person above their people. But the council be damned. She’d had enough of their words, enough of their deceit. She had lived a life of sacrifice, and Clarke was the one thing she had to call her own. She wouldn’t let Clarke go, she would deal with the rest later.

She stood up finally with one last tender touch on Declan’s cheek. She straightened and started walking towards Nyko to ask him about how they were stocked with supplies, when she saw a familiar figure bending over one of the children in the beds.

She felt her blood burn hot, and the acid in her stomach crawled up her throat, and she barely managed to keep it down. She strode swiftly to the woman’s side, fury radiating off her in waves. “What are you doing here,” she hissed, barely able to control her anger.

The woman froze and then carefully stood up and faced her Heda. She bowed her head and hunched her shoulders. “Heda…I…”

“Shof op,” growled Lexa, knowing she wasn’t being fair, but she could barely stand to look at her. She might have saved Clarke’s life after she faced the Broga, and she might have allowed her a place back with the Trikru, but she hadn’t imagined she would be here, with the most vulnerable of the patients, the youngest of her people.

“Commander, she is truly gifted,” Abby hurried to intervene, nervous at the way Lexa glowered at the other woman, anxious to avoid a confrontation that would disturb her young charges. Because although she had only met them a few hours ago, she already considered them her patients as well as Nyko’s.

“No,” Lexa bit out the words coldly. “I will not have her here in the infirmary.” She grasped the dagger at her hip, waiting for the dark-haired woman to say anything, something, but she remained silent looking at her feet.

“Then she can come back with me to Camp Jaha. We could use another fisa,” stated Abby tiredly. “She will be of great use to us,” Abby looked over at the woman, her shoulders still slightly hunched, and she felt her heart ache slightly for her. She didn’t know her entire history, but she knew the woman had suffered at the hands of the Broga, and that she’d had a hand in Costia’s death. “Maybe she can begin again,” murmured Abby.

Lexa turned and glared at Abby and then flicked her hand away. “Give us some privacy,” once Nyko and Abby had returned to check on the other patients, Lexa glanced at Clarke and sighed, “Please.”

Clarke nodded and walked a few feet away, bending down and talking to the little girl in the bed, but she kept one eye on Lexa. But Lexa just stood there glaring at Indigo Skai as if she had a wealth of words that she wished to speak, but couldn’t seem to find the will to spit them out. But as soon as Lexa pivoted abruptly on her heel, Clarke straightened to follow her, and gasped in surprise when Indigo slipped behind Lexa.

Lexa strode out of the room and down the hall, her anger just simmering under the surface. She could see Angus leaning casually against the wall a little further ahead, and despite his seeming nonchalance, she could tell every muscle was poised to fight. His eyes missed nothing, and she saw him straighten slightly, and she whirled, dagger drawn and held it to Indigo’s throat. She shoved the woman down to the floor standing above her, blade pressed into her throat.

“Lexa, stop!” Clarke grabbed Lexa’s arm, trying to pull it back, but Lexa just glared at her and jerked her elbow away, and the blade sliced into Indigo’s neck.

“Leska, please. Don’t do this. Not here.” Clarke rested her hand carefully on Lexa’s forearm, and flicked her gaze quickly at Indigo, surprised that no fear shown in her eyes, just an exhausted resignation. She noticed the woman’s fingers resting at the top of the pouch tied to her waist.

“Heda, I have something for you. Something to return to you.” Indigo barely breathed, only moving her fingers to open the pouch and once her fingers scraped the thin cord, she pulled it out and held it up to Lexa.

Lexa felt the blood drain from her face, and her dagger slipped. She stumbled back as she stared at the metal pendant hanging from a worn leather cord. She thought later that she probably would have fallen if it hadn’t been for Clarke’s steadying arm wrapped around her waist.

“H-how…how did…I don’t…” She growled, feeling the words stumbling in her mouth, and the salt pricked her eyes as she sank into a crouch and reached out, gently grasping the pendant. It rested heavily in her palm, despite how light it was. She wrapped her long fingers around it, letting the smoothed edges bite into her palm. She focused on the brief pain, and when she looked at Indigo again, she raised the point of her blade and rested it against Indigo’s chest, over her heart.

“Speak.”

Indigo swallowed hard, her eyes glazing over as she let the memories wash over her.

_She nodded to the two guards as she fidgeted in front of the doorway. Her back stung from her latest lashing, but it wasn’t anything particularly new. She’d grown accustomed to the pain, had learned to set it aside. But the girl behind the door had not yet learned how to separate her mind from the torment her body suffered, despite the weeks that had passed._

_She sighed as she slipped through the door, letting her eyes grow accustomed to the dark. There were no windows, and the sun barely shown through the spaces between the logs. Once her eyes had grown accustomed, she moved across the small room and knelt next to the girl who lay on the molding straw, covered only by a ragged fur._

_She gently shook her awake, needing to make sure she was coherent, needing to know how much more of the herbs to give her. “Costia,” she whispered, as she smoothed the heavy, greasy hair back from the girl’s forehead. Her brow was still warm, but not as much as yesterday. She opened her various pouches, and pulled the water skin from around her waist._

_She glanced down at the girl’s wrists and ankles, the stained rope biting into her broken skin. Where her skin should have been smooth mocha, it was now red and raw with dried blood deeply ingrained into the rough fibers of the rope. She knew there wasn’t much she could do about it. She’d given up trying to convince the Broga to let her bandage the girl’s wrists and ankles. It didn’t matter, the girl wouldn’t be around much longer._

_She wet a clean cloth, carefully dabbing at the colorless shift that covered Costia’s thin form. The blood had soaked through and hardened into a shell, and she knew it would be incredibly painful when she pulled it off her, tearing the new scabs open. She managed to loosen some of the dried blood, and then looked down into her young face. She was gritting her teeth, but her eyes couldn’t deny the pain that wracked her frame._

_“Are you ready?”_

_Costia nodded, taking a deep breath, and barely managed to squelch the cry of pain as Indigo carefully pulled the torn shift off the girl’s back. Her flesh burned, and the tears dripped down her face, but still she didn’t make a sound. She tried desperately to think of anything except the broken skin and torn flesh of her back, anything but the broken bones in her hands slowly healing, anything but the fact that the Broga would be back in a day or two with her whip. She shuddered, wondering if that would be the day when her body would finally give out._

_Indigo froze, her hand hanging over the girl’s back when the shudder ripped through. She stared down at her wet cheeks, and she tried to ruthlessly stamp down the fear and blossoming affection she felt for the girl. She wasn’t the first plaything of Broga’s that she had patched up, only to send her back to the Broga. It was a vicious, never-ending cycle, and when the mad queen’s rage couldn’t be satiated, then Indigo felt the scorch of her whip._

_She swallowed hard as she dabbed at the girl’s back, pleased to see that infection hadn’t set in. She mixed a pasted and applied it to her back. She set the small bowl down, and looked at the white paste, her stomach turning. It was a miracle plant, with amazing properties of healing, and yet, it was being used for evil; preparing the sacrificial goat for more torture before slaughter._

_She wrapped her back in clean muslin, and then prepared a tonic. She stared at the herbs in her pouch and bit her lip, looking back at Costia. She had heard rumblings from the guards. The girl wasn’t long for the world. She nodded her head and dumped in more of the herbs, giving her a bigger dose. She’d been gradually building it up in the girl’s system, under the careful, but ignorant eyes of the guards._

_Once Costia had drunk it, she waited a few moments watching her eyes cloud over, and then sharpen, and finally dull slightly. She wiped her face with a cool cloth, glad when the girl’s breaths started to deepen. She was startled when Costia raised her hand to her thigh where she knelt next to her._

_“Thank you,” her voice was a broken whisper, and then she raised her hand and pointed to a chink in the logs. “There. Please.”_

_Indigo stood to her feet, glancing between the slits of the logs to make sure the guards were still facing away from the door. She went to the spot Costia had indicated, confused as to what she was supposed to be seeing. Perhaps the drug had already seized her mind and pushed her back into the past. She raised her hands, carefully and slowly running her fingertips across the rough logs, until her fingers snagged on a jagged piece of log that didn’t quite fit with the rest._

_She realized almost immediately that something was behind it, and she carefully pried the piece of wood out. She grabbed the small piece of cloth, and set the chink of wood back in place. She returned swiftly to Costia’s side, knowing the guards would pound on the door soon, deciding she’d taken up enough time bandaging and trying to heal the Broga’s plaything. She pressed it into Costia’s hands, careful to avoid disturbing the wrapped, broken fingers._

_Costia smiled, her head swimming a bit. She glanced up at her friend, because that was what she was. She was the only kindness left in this frozen world, and even when the drugs seized and ripped into Costia’s mind, she could still remember the soft touch of Indigo’s hands smoothing out her hair, trying to give her what little comfort was left._

_She unfolded it slowly, staring at the necklace nestled in the cloth. She felt the pain in her chest sharpen, and she knew as she held it that it would be the last time. Lexa wasn’t coming. She’d held on to the hope that she would come, even knowing that she couldn’t. She was fighting a war on three fronts, and Costia was a distraction, not important enough to bring the new Heda deep into the North. But she knew, she knew Lexa loved her, she was just bound by duty that could not be broken. She smiled bitterly, knowing that the duty that bound Lexa was even stronger than the ropes that kept her bound by the Broga._

_She touched a finger to the smooth metal. It had become a habit of hers to rub the pendant between her fingers, ever since the day Lexa had given it to her. She had known what it meant, but it had been a secret. It had never been official, but Lexa had loved her enough to want a better future for them both. But she’d feared what the council would do, for they had been adamant that Hedas weren’t allowed to take bondmates, but Lexa had refused to listen. She’d pressed desperate kisses into Costia’s skin, making promises that Costia knew she wouldn’t be able to keep._

_She pressed her lips to the pendant for the last time, and she felt the heavy lassitude steal into her limbs and her vision blur. She fumbled as she handed it to Indigo. “Please. Give this to her. Tell her…tell…her…” she swallowed painfully as her vision swam, “I understand.” She let her hand drop, and then her face broke into a smile. “Lexa,” she murmured, “hello my darling.”_

_Indigo bowed her head, her fingers clutching at the necklace. Costia was gone. Lost again in a world that Indigo had created for her, had built for her to escape the pain of what was to come. She pulled the thin fur back around the girl and gently kissed her forehead before knocking for the guards. She stepped out of the hut and looked back one more time, relieved that the girl was lost in a world where she and Lexa were still young and alive and in love._

“She wanted me to give it you.”

Lexa crouched in front of Indigo, her face betraying nothing, but she felt her heart breaking, and she was sure she was going to die. “The herbs?” she finally managed to spit the words out, but they broke in the air between them.

“Dremslo. The flower grows in the ice, and it’s harvested at night. It leaves no trace, but it tricks the mind, lets the person believe that what they dream is reality.” Indigo leaned her head back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. She had kept her end of the bargain. She had returned Costia’s necklace to her first and only love. She had owed the girl that much, for the weeks in which Indigo had patched her up, healed her body only to deliver her back to the Broga.

Lexa felt the fury start to die in her chest, and she could feel Clarke’s warm hands on her shoulders, grounding her. “What did you do to her?”

“The flower also opens the mind to suggestion.” Indigo looked carefully at Lexa, not entirely sure how much of the truth she should tell her, but she supposed Heda deserved to know; needed to know. And Costia deserved to have her entire story told.

“I would give it to her and then tell her that you were here, that you had arrived to save her.” Indigo didn’t bother to conceal the bitter smirk. “She believed it. She was lost in her own mind, but it gave her peace.”

“And..the…and…” Lexa couldn’t get the words out, and she looked up at Clarke silently pleading.

“The day she died. What happened?” Clarke stared at Indigo, unsure of whether she wanted to hear the answer, unsure if it would help Lexa or just hurt her more.

“One of the guards warned me. And I overdosed her that day.” Indigo laughed, the pain more than evident in her voice. “It was the day after she gave me the necklace. The Broga decided that Costia no longer served any purpose. She’d grown tired and bored of her. She never spoke a word about you. She never told the Broga anything.”

Long moments passed until finally Lexa rose unsteadily to her feet, her chest hollow and cold. She could feel the walls closing in on her, and she needed to run to leave, to think. She shook her head, unable to speak. She felt Clarke’s hands scraping across her shoulders and down her arms, but she stepped hurriedly out of her way, walking as quickly as she could down the hall, but not quickly enough to lose Indigo’s last words.

“She went to her death believing she was actually with you. She never saw or felt her own death.”

It should have been a relief, but it only hurt even more that she hadn’t gone after Costia. Oh she’d burned the Ice Nation, but it had been too late to save Costia. She’d sacrificed her first love to end the war between the remaining clans not in the Coalition, so she could finally turn her attention to the North. She had lost Costia, had sacrificed her for the good of her people, to bring them peace….but the knowledge did nothing to ease her guilt.

*********************************

Lexa barely slowed her pace as she walked swiftly through the alleys of Polis, intent upon reaching her destination with as few people seeing her as possible. She knew Clarke was stumbling behind her, trying to keep quiet, but her footsteps lacked the grace of the typical Trikru. She knew she should probably slow down and let Clarke catch up, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to slow her steps as her heart continued to trip painfully in her chest. She could feel the salt biting at her eyes, and she told herself, she just had to hold on a little longer.

Within moments she saw the tall barn set back behind the tower. It was relatively closed off, away from most prying eyes. She easily vaulted the stone walls that enclosed the large area, striding swiftly across the packed dirt area. The large sliding barn doors were partially open, and she slipped inside, softly making her way down the long aisle. She patted a few noses, as the horses stuck their heads out of their stalls, whickering quietly to her.

Once she reached the stall she wanted, she unlatched the short gate, smiling at the red bay inside. He was her favorite war horse, and he immediately pushed his big head into her chest. She clucked at him and reached up both hands and scratched behind his ears. She tugged both his ears and dropped a kiss on his velvet nose.

“Hei, Vincent,” she murmured as she rested her forehead against his. She could feel the tears drip down her cheeks, and she couldn’t suppress the lone, choking sob that squeezed out her chest. She was sure something was breaking inside, the pain between her ribs was so sharp. She ground her teeth together, refusing to let another sob past her lips. She heard her before she saw her, and she straightened, blinking her tears back.

“Leska…” She bit her lip as she stood behind Lexa, her heart aching for her love. She reached out a hand, but let it hand there between them for a moment while she debated whether or not her touch would be welcome. She finally closed the distance between them, resting her hand briefly between Lexa’s shoulder blades, before stepping closer and sliding her hand down her back and around her stomach. She pressed her front lightly against Lexa’s back, sliding her other arm around her waist, and holding her firmly but not tightly.

“I…” Clarke sighed, feeling the tears prick her eyes. She rested her cheek on the back of Lexa’s shoulder, unsure if words were even useful at this point. She sighed and stepped back just enough to turn Lexa in her arms, although Lexa resisted just enough to make it difficult for Clarke. But once they were face to face, Clarke nuzzled her face into Lexa’s neck, one arm still firmly wrapped around her waist, her right hand cupping the back of Lexa’s neck.

“I don’t know what to say, Leska.” She chuckled bitterly, “or even if there is any point in saying anything.” She pressed soft kisses to Lexa’s wet cheek, “but I am here, Leska. For whatever you need. Whatever you need, I am here.” She pressed her lips lightly against Lexa’s, gratified when the older girl returned the kiss.

“I..I thought,” she choked on the words, letting her head fall on Clarke’s shoulder. She took a few deep, shuddering breaths trying to regain control of emotions. “All these years, I’ve imagined how afraid she must have been, how alone.” She tightened her arms around Clarke, nuzzling her face into her shoulder, “how she must have hated me for abandoning her.”

“Oh, love…” Clarke felt the tears drip down her own cheeks, knowing that she really didn’t have any words that would soothe this festering wound. She just held her, until she heard Lexa finally release a deep sigh, expelling almost all of the air in her lungs, her muscles, her body. She sagged further into Clarke, and Clarke almost stumbled under her weight. She glanced around the barn, noticing the shocks of dried grasses carefully bundled and stacked. She hesitated for a moment, but then decided a few damaged shocks of hay probably wouldn’t hurt the horses.

She pulled Lexa with her to the pile of shocks, plopping down inelegantly and pulling Lexa with her. The older girl tumbled into her lap, and Clarke smiled as she carefully maneuvered their limbs so that Lexa was more or less in her lap, her legs thrown carelessly across her thighs. She wrapped both arms around Lexa, pressing her cheek to the top of the head that nestled partly into her neck. Her heart was breaking for her beloved, and she could feel Lexa’s pain radiating from a soul so damaged by the choices she’d made for her people. And Clarke wasn’t sure that Costia was a wound that would ever truly heal.

She could feel the rough, wet, uneven breath hitting her neck, and each puff was like a small flinch to her heart. But she reveled in it, despite how her heart ached. Because this was love. This was how she loved Lexa. She was Lexa’s safe place in the storm, and she would fight for her bond with Lexa until her last breath. And no one would take it from her.

They stayed there for many moments, neither speaking, and finally Lexa’s breath evened out, and she looked up at Clarke with glassy eyes, a tremulous smile birthing and dying on her lips. She gripped the necklace harder in her fist, almost wishing it would cut her palm, but the pendant had been dulled by time and age, smoothed with loving strokes of fingers. “I loved her,” she whispered, “but not as much as I love you.” She bit her bottom lip, worrying it between strong teeth. “I should have loved her better. I should have protected her better.”

Clarke gently cupped Lexa’s cheek, letting her forehead rest against Lexa’s. “Oh Leska. You loved her, and she knew that. And she died believing that she was back with you.” Clarke wrapped her hand around Lexa’s fist, and when Lexa opened her fist, Clarke carefully picked up the necklace, letting it dangle from her fingers.

“You will always love Costia, Leska, and you should. She helped mold you, and she cared for you when you couldn’t care for yourself.” Clarke smiled bemusedly, as she carefully unhooked the necklace and gestured for Lexa to lift her hair, and once she had, Clarke hooked it back in place. She leaned down and kissed the pendant, before slipping it under Lexa’s shirt.

“I never met her, but I love her too.” At Lexa’s startled glance she smiled lightly, “You loved her, and she loved you. She loved you more than anyone. She was your shelter in the storm, she was where you could lay your burdens to rest, and for that I love her.” Clarke brushed her lips against Lexa’s forehead, trailing tender kisses down the bridge of her nose until their lips met. She nipped softly at Lexa’s bottom lip, before gently mapping it with her own tongue. They kissed for long moments, their bodies relaxing and melting into each other. Soon hands fumbled with buckles and buttons, and Clarke dumped Lexa out of her lap into the hay, and quickly moved so that she was laying between Lexa’s legs.

She pulled Lexa’s shirt up, letting her tongue map the taught belly, dipping into the curves and lines, chasing the shadows of her ribs with her lips. She hummed in content as she gently rubbed her cheek across the smooth belly, memorizing the feel of Lexa against her.

“Klark, we probably shouldn’t…” Lexa’s voice trailed off, and her eyes closed against her own volition, and she jerked her hips when she felt Clarke’s tongue dip into her navel, circling the edges languorously. She bit her lip as she imagined that tongue lower, circling and dipping into her center. She slapped a hand across her mouth before the moan could fall past her lips.

Clarke chuckled and looked up, noting the flush slowly stealing across Lexa’s golden skin. “Do you really want me to stop, Leska?” She teased as she dipped her tongue into Lexa’s navel again, and slid her hands under Lexa’s bottom, palming the round, firm globes. She didn’t bother to hide her own moan at the thought of feeling the warm flesh against her palms without any fabric between them. She squeezed a few times, delighting in the way Lexa jerked her hips upward, searching for friction that wasn’t there.

She pulled her knees under her, and slowly kissed and licked her way up Lexa’s stomach, letting her tongue trace just underneath the edge of the shirt where it was rolled up under Lexa’s breasts. She hovered over her lover, letting her hands slide deep into the shocks on either side of Lexa’s head. She stared into mossy green eyes that shone, and the smile died on her lips, and for a moment she could feel her heart stutter, and her breath caught in her lungs, ballooning and stretching, pressing against her ribs.

She was sure she would burst from it, burst from this rising wave of love and desire, this unspeakable _something_ that was locked in her chest, and she wanted to cry. She wanted to paint Lexa’s skin with her tears, drown in Lexa’s embrace. She wanted to scream and bang her own head against the strong timbers that framed the barn, until she stained the very ground they rested upon with her blood. And she wanted to sink her teeth so deeply into Lexa’s breast, that Lexa would carry the mark with her forever. And it frightened her, shook her, and when she finally drew in a breath, it rattled her ribs; seared through every limb as _something_ threatened to break free.

Lexa lay there, trapped in the storm of Clarke’s regard. She felt the hot gaze wash over her and pierce her, sink deep into sinew and bone, until she saw nothing but blue. It filled every crack and hollow of her vision, and the smothering heat of Clarke’s body made her head swim, and she was sure she was floating. Free and unlimited, buoyed by the boundless depth of Clarke.

It reminded her of when she was nothing more than a young Heda, scarred and broken, patched back together by every utterance of destiny and duty that fell from Gustus’ lips. She had floated in the waves of the ocean for the first time, letting it push and pull at her limbs, let its never-ending tumult press against her ribs, and fill her mouth with brine. She had choked and coughed and struggled as the waves pressed and retreated, and still she refused to come to shore. For she floated along, her gaze looking up, never leaving the vastness of the blue sky. And she had been free and unlimited, her destiny fresh and untried, not stained with blood and red sashes and broken blades.

And so she lay there, her gaze never retreating from Clarke’s; recognizing a life of sorrow and pain and duty and raw hope born in her eyes. She reached up with both hands, gently pulling Clarke’s face to hers. “I know,” she whispered, “I know.” And she did know. The words that Clarke couldn’t find to tell her _something_ , it was there, buried in every breath she drew, every arch of her flesh, in every reverent touch. She knew. It was enough.

Clarke nodded. It was enough. Lexa knew. She’d probably always known, even when Clarke had been to blind, to angry to acknowledge what had always been there. What had always bound them together, at opposite ends of a thread, pulling apart and then moving in sync.

Clarke lowered herself on top of Lexa, letting her weight rest fully on the older girl. She laid her head on Lexa’s breast, reassured by the strong thumping under her ear. She let her eyes close for a moment, resting in the comfort of Lexa’s arms. She was exhausted, and she never wanted to move again; but she knew they couldn’t stay there forever. She drifted for a few moments, each inhale and exhale of her lungs matching perfectly with Lexa’s. The horses’ shifting and soft whickers in the background lulled her gradually, and she smiled.

“Why the barn?” She murmured, eyes still closed, hands now under the wings of Lexa’s shoulder blades, as she cupped them tenderly, aware of the fragility in the lines of her bones, but realizing the strength of the shoulders that bore the burdens and dreams of a people.

“They don’t judge. They just listen. They don’t care if I’m Heda or Lexa or if I was just a frightened Natblida.” Lexa opened her eyes staring up at the ceiling, noting the dust that danced in the sunbeams coming through the spaces high up in the rafters. “I always just…was.”

She tangled her fingers lightly in Clarke’s hair, scratching at the girl’s scalp, chuckling when Clarke groaned and melted further into her. “I found comfort here, immovable strength that I could trust.” She blushed at the thought of seeming too maudlin. “Vincent saved my life more than once. Anya gave him to me when I became Heda. She had hand-raised him and trained him herself.”

Clarke nodded minutely, her cheek still pressed to Lexa’s breast. “I’m glad. Glad you had something.”

Lexa nodded, letting her eyes drift close again. She knew they needed to get up, needed to return to the others. She knew that some of her guards were outside the barn. They knew enough not to intrude, but they were there, waiting.

They lay there entwined, breathing each other’s air, letting time flow around them for a while, allowing its river to pass them by. They just existed, sorrow and pain suspended if not forgotten for a few moments, and it was enough. When laughter drifted to them, they didn’t think much of it, until it came closer, slipping down the long aisle, warning them that they were no longer alone.

They stirred quickly, caught in a tangle of limbs, and Clarke landed face first in the pile of hay, but was quickly hauled to her feet by Lexa. They hastily tried to straighten out their clothing and pick the straw out of each other’s hair, but before they could finish two figures appeared, wrapped up in each other. Lexa grabbed Clarke and pushed her into Vincent’s stall, following quickly behind.

She patted Vincent’s neck as she and Clarke carefully peered over the stall door, and Lexa smirked upon recognizing the couple who were laughing and kissing, their arms wrapped around each other. Lexa glanced over at Clarke and jerked her head at the couple as she prepared to step out of the stall. But Clarke grabbed her hand, pulling her back and shaking her head, not wanting to disturb the couple. Lexa huffed dramatically and rolled her eyes at Clarke.

Clarke shook her head again and swatted Lexa lightly on the shoulder, before scooting under Vincent’s neck so that she was behind Lexa. She wrapped her arms around Lexa’s slim waist and rested her chin on her shoulder. She turned her face and nuzzled into Lexa’s neck, inhaling the sweet damp scent of her neck. She pressed her lips just behind her earlobe, closing her eyes in contentment.

They waited a few more moments, trying to give the couple time to move on, but when Lexa heard the sound of two bodies falling into the pile of hay, she quickly stepped out of Clarke’s arms, not wanting to be witness to anything more. She stepped out of the stall, and watched with no small amount of satisfaction as the couple tried to quickly disentangle themselves.

Lexa clasped her hands in front of her and stared solemnly at them both, patiently waiting for them to make themselves more presentable. She wanted to smirk at their flushed skin and slightly panicked eyes, but she managed to refrain. They both bowed slightly, before standing straight, their hands at their sides.

“Heda, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were here.” The taller woman spoke quickly, as she pushed her tangled golden hair out of her eyes. Lexa narrowed her eyes slightly realizing for the first time that the woman before her probably could have been of Clarke’s blood. They both had golden hair and blue eyes, pale skin. But this woman’s eyes were darker blue, not the bright azure of Clarke’s eyes, and she was taller than both Lexa and Clarke.

She nodded her head, “Taelin.” She glanced over at the smaller woman at her side who was trying not to laugh. She noted that the caramel skinned woman held leather ties in her hand, and she wondered idly what she’d intended to do with them. She frowned slightly as she tried to place the woman’s name, knowing she’d met her before. But she was quickly distracted as Clarke stepped out of the stall and around Lexa smiling at the two women.

“Wanheda,” breathed the smaller woman as her face split into a smile, her dark eyes gleaming. She bowed her head slightly to Clarke, who nodded in return.

“It is an honor to meet you, Wanheda.”

Clarke nodded and held out her arm, surprising both woman, who eagerly accepted the offering. “And you both are…”

The blonde stepped forward, flushing slightly, “Forgive us, Wanheda. I am Taelin, the Maestra of Horses, and this is my houmon Amia. She is a metal craftsman here in Polis.”

Lexa turned to Clarke, gesturing towards Taelin, “She is in charge of my warhorses. She breeds them, trains them and takes care of them.”

“She has a gift,” murmured Amia, before she suddenly bit her lip realizing that she might have spoken out of turn. She glanced up at Taelin out of the corner of her eye, wincing slightly at her narrowed gaze. She straightened her spine, her hands fiddling with the bronze cuff on her wrist.

Lexa smiled slightly, “Indeed, she does, Amia. She is the only one I trust with Vincent besides myself.” Lexa turned to Taelin and gestured back at Vincent, “How is his leg healing?” She gestured for Taelin and the two of them turned back to Vincent, talking quietly as they examined his leg together.

Clarke smiled a little, suddenly feeling awkward at being left alone with the other woman. She glanced around the barn before turning her attention back to Amia, noticing the cuff that the woman fiddled with.

“It is beautiful,” she gestured towards the cuff, “you made that?”

“Sha, sha.” Amia slipped it off her wrist and handed it to Clarke. “I buy or trade for raw ore or old pieces of metal that I melt down and repurpose.”

Clarke nodded thoughtfully as she traced a finger over the delicate braids that made up the cuff. “And do you do smaller pieces? Like rings?”

Amia smiled, “Sha, Wanheda, I can make you anything you desire. If you wish, you can stop by my shop, and I can show you more of my work. Much of what I make would be suitable for…” she hesitated briefly, studying the blonde carefully who still hadn’t looked at her. “For a gift of importance. For a loved one.”

Clarke looked up this time, seeing Amia’s knowing smile. She held the cuff up, “Is this what this was? A gift of importance?”

“Sha, my houmons wear matching cuffs also. Bonding cuffs.”

“Houmons? As in…more than one?” Clarke’s brow furrowed briefly, and she stared at Amia thoughtfully, “This is allowed?”

“Of course, why would it not be? Taelin was my first love, but we found room in our hearts for Ettore. He is a builder, responsible for repairing Polis’ walls,” she stated proudly, smiling unabashedly.

Clarke couldn’t help but smile in return. The idea was somewhat foreign to her, she couldn’t recall there ever really being a couple on the Ark who weren’t really a couple, but were more. But she also couldn’t recall there being any laws against it. Polis was…different. It was nothing as she had expected. It was so much more. It was bursting with life and hopes and dreams and possibilities.

“Come to my shop,” Amia entreated quietly, “I will help you create what you want.”

Clarke nodded and handed her back the cuff just as Lexa and Taelin stepped back out of the stall. She smiled at Lexa before focusing on Taelin, “Perhaps you would show me the horses sometime, Maestra Taelin? Are there any horses here that aren’t warhorses that perhaps I could ride?”

Taelin looked to Lexa for confirmation before turning back to Clarke, “Sha, Wanheda. Actually if you would like, I can show you some of the new foals. There is one in particular...” she smiled as she let her voice trail off as she gestured back down the aisle for them to follow her.

Lexa and Taelin led the way with Amia and Clarke right behind. They stepped out into the sunlight, Lexa noting the guards in the area. They made their way to a smaller barn with only six stalls. Taelin walked down to the last stall, and they all grouped around her as they peered over the door.

“This filly is three months old. Vincent is her sire and Holland is her nomon.” Clarke stared at the huge horse with thick legs and dark shaggy hair falling over its forehead. It was almost blue colored with bits of steel gray and charcoal in her coat. Her foal also had thick legs and stood tall and strong, but her coat was mottled dark blue and gray with patches of red and points of silver and white. She was a masterpiece, a galaxy of stars; and Clarke fell instantly in love, her breath catching in her throat.

She held her hand out, and the foal gingerly approached her, her velvet nose snuffing at Clarke’s fingers before she quickly retreated behind her mother, peeking out curiously at Clarke who cooed softly to her. “Hello, lovely girl. You are so beautiful,” she felt tears fill her eyes, and she didn’t know why. But she smiled when the filly slowly approached again, snuffing harder at Clarke’s hand, and she allowed Clarke to skim her fingers down her neck. “Look at you, you’re a galaxy of stars.”

Clarke looked up at Taelin and then Lexa before turning back to the filly. “What is her name?”

Lexa smiled and leaned closer to Clarke, her shoulder pressing gently against Clarke’s. “She doesn’t have a name yet. She’s been waiting for you to name her.”

Clarke’s head snapped up in surprise, and the movement caused the filly to retreat in gangly haste again, and Clarke immediately refocused on her, gently soothing and coaxing her back to her, where she continued to gently stroke her. “I don’t understand,” murmured Clarke not looking at Lexa.

“When I found out that Holland would foal, I decided to give you the foal to raise and train. Holland and Vincent are two of my best warhorses, and I had been waiting a while to breed them.” Lexa nodded to Taelin, “when the pregnancy took, I knew the foal would be one of the best, a great warhorse someday, and Taelin agreed.”

“So you wanted her for me?” Clarke wrinkled her brow as she pulled back and turned to look at Lexa, “when did you decide this?”

Lexa shuffled her feet for a moment, grateful when Taelin and Amia stepped away to give them privacy. “Over a year ago. The gestation period is about 11-12 months.” She shrugged and smiled a little.

Clarke bit her lip and nodded slowly, realizing that Lexa had always hoped that she would return. Had made plans for the future, despite not knowing if Clarke would ever forgive her. She felt her eyes fill with tears again, and she turned back to watch the foal nurse from her mother. She leaned her forearms on the top of the stall door, and when Lexa pushed against her so she too could rest her arms on the door, Clarke leaned her head on her shoulder.

“What should I name her?”

“That is up to you.”

“Halocent.”

“Halocent?”

“Sha. Well her mother’s name is Holland, and her sire is Vincent. And her coat reminds me of space, of the stars in the galaxy, of how the light rises above the curved horizon cutting a golden scythe through the void of space. H for Holland, Halo for the halo in space, and cent for Vincent.”

Lexa chuckled, feeling inordinately proud that Clarke would have also named the filly after two of her favorite warhorses. “It’s perfect. Halocent. She is yours. Taelin will help you train her.”

“And you?” Clarke turned and looked at Lexa, letting her fingers scrape along Lexa’s.

“Sha, Klark. I will help you too.” She felt oddly flummoxed as Clarke’s wide smile lit across her face, and Lexa felt the warmth of her smile spill into her own heart as she linked their fingers together before turning and gently tugging Clarke along the aisle, showing her each foal and telling her about the long line of warhorses that had been bred by the Trikru hedas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cameos in order: Indigo Skai = Blueskkies, Taelin = Taylynn. 
> 
> Thank you to Taylynn for letting me use her horses in this chapter, despite the fact that I didn't actually ask her if I could. I assume she will forgive me for this. 
> 
> So...thoughts???


	47. Author's Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little note. Please read.

Hey all,

First of all, I wanted to apologize for being MIA lately. But this work hasn't been abandoned. None of my works have been abandoned. So please don't worry about that.

I haven't done much writing lately because I hurt my wrist and hand bad enough that it has required physical therapy 2x a week for over a month now. I'm an Accountant, so I have to type a lot, so I've been trying to save my hand. I have been taking notes for new chapters for this fic and a few others. I'm hoping to start writing again in another week. I have really missed writing and am anxious to start again.

I know I haven't answered many comments on my fics lately. I've read them all, and I hope to start answering them soon. 

Thank you all for your patience, and hopefully I'll have something up soon!

Cheers,  
Bae


	48. Happy Birthday, Krusten!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday, Krusten! I hope your birthday was wonderful. Here is a little something for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been waaaaay too long. I didn't get to finish the chapter. This is only the first half, but I figured it was better than nothing, right? Also...this is a fluffy chapter.

The unexpected trip to the barn had left lexa feeling tired and more emotional than she would have ever predicted. And for some reason it hadn't occurred to her that she would see Indigo again, nor would she have ever imagined the truth of Costia's death. Her worst fears had both been confirmed and eased. Costia had suffered, but she died believing that she was with Lexa again. Indigo had given Costia that last bit of peace. She didn’t know if she would ever really be able to forgive Indigo for her role in Costia’s suffering, but at least she could let Costia go, and perhaps more importantly, she could free Indigo from her own guilt. Guilt was the great punisher, and there was nothing she could do that would cause any true harm to Indigo. It was time to let it all go. She would send Indigo to Abby. Abby would know how to help her. 

She wished she could solve her other problems so easily. The day so far had been been filled with one upheaval after another. 

But now she had a few moments alone in her bedroom before her presence was required at the feast. She paced back and forth in her room trying to ignore the sounds of her people pouring into the streets as they closed their shops early in preparation for the festival. The bubbled glass panes did little to drown out the laughter and shouts of joy that rang in the streets as people called to each other and children shrieked as they ran towards the center of Polis where the great feast would be held. 

She stood in front of the window, her shoulders drooping in exhaustion. She leaned her forehead against the cool glass. She let her eyes flutter shut, and she felt herself drift backward, and soon she was spinning down a dark hole. 

_ "Come on, Lexa, hurry. We don't want to be late." The girl anxiously tugged at lexa's hand, her eyes alight with excitement, her voice warbling just enough for Lexa to know how important today was. _

_ "I'm Heda, Costia.They can't begin without me," she chuckled as the older girl threw a quick glare over her shoulder as she continued to tug Lexa down the small alley.  _

_ Costia sighed and came to a halt, dropping Lexa's hand and crossing her arms over her chest. "Why are you dwadling, Lexa?" She stepped closer, her arms dropping to her sides,uncertainty making her chew her bottom lip. "D-do you not want to do this?"  _

_ Lexa stared at the older girl and opened her mouth, but no words came out. She floundered for a moment, desperately wanting to restore the light in Costia’s eyes, see her beautiful face break out into the smile that was reserved one for Lexa.  _

_ "I love you." She blurted it out, the only thing that made sense in her foggy mind. She couldn't bare to see any sadness upon Costia's face. Her hands trembled. This hadn't been how she had wanted to tell Costia. But when the older girl threw herself in Lexa's arms, nothing else mattered. Not the scouts who had reported that the Blood Clan was on the move, that the Ice Nation's ambassador had been seen in in Wolf territory. Nothing mattered but the warm, silky press of Costia’s mouth against her own. It never failed to ignite that spark in her belly.  _

_ And it was with great reluctance that she gently pushed Costia away, just enough to reach inside her vest and pull the necklace from around her own neck.  _

_ She held it out to Costia. "You are mine. Let them all know. You have Heda's heart." She carefully tied the necklace around the fisa's slender neck, pressing her lips against her warm skin. She could hear the people in the streets, waiting for her to open the festival, but she ignored them all for another moment to bask in the warmth of the girl she loved. And she ignored the worry that settled deeply in her chest. And she ignored Gustus and Anya's words that still rang in her ears, that to be Heda was to be alone, that acknowledging Costia would only bring them both pain. She pushed it all away, ignoring everything for those last few moments. Didn't she deserve to be happy with Costia? After everything she'd sacrificed?  _

****************************** 

Lexa cursed when she felt the familiar worry settle deeply in her chest. She'd ignored it once before, and it had cost her everything. Her hands shook. she hadn't known then, but she should have. She should have known that spies slipped between the revelers in Polis, that they had seen her publicly acknowledge Costia. She might as well have handed Costia over to the enemy, for acknowledging her so publically had done exactly that. And it had been the beginning of the end. The end had come quickly, so very quickly, and she hadn't been prepared. 

She clenched her fists, grinding her teeth together in frustration. It wasn't the same. This time was different. Clarke was a warrior, and they were at peace. History wouldn't repeat itself. Lexa knew she would never survive it. 

She turned from the window, her heart aching, the hollow spaces between her ribs growing. She slumped onto the bed, her hands falling to her sides. She idly picked at the blanket on the bed. Blanket? She stared down at the bed in confusion, sliding off it to turn and bend over, examining the blanket that hadn't been on her bed before. She scrunched her nose as her fingers idly traced the different colors. 

It was a patchwork of sorts, made up of blocks of different materials and colors. She stared in surprise when she recognized the navy blue material from a Skaikru jacket, another block was fur, fox maybe. She smiled as her fingers scraped across the soft silky deep red block. She chuckled. How clarke had manage to cut off a piece of her Heda's sash was beyond her, but she'd managed it somehow. She quickly realized that each block was significant. It was a piece of Clarke and a piece of Lexa. 

She sat back down on the bed, a little more carefully this time, worried about scrunching the patchwork too much. She looked around her room, finally noticing the small changes: the easel in the corner that she'd had put in Clarke's room, Clarke's chest, her daggers. She smiled. Her handmaiden had moved quickly when she'd ordered them to have Clarke's things officially moved into her own. 

She smiled again, but her joy at seeing Clarke's chest sitting next to her own, did nothing to quell the anxiety that burned in her belly. She'd been down this road before, and it had ended in so many deaths. She rubbed her fingers together, willing herself to not think about Costia anymore. Costia would be happy for her. She knew this, knew it as deeply as she had loved Costia.

Her head ached, and she cursed quietly. She would need to think about getting ready soon for the festival. But she couldn't bring herself to, too exhausted to move. She covered her face with her hands breathing deeply and trying to sooth her fractured mind. She remembered her teacher's words, and she chanted them quietly under her breath. She felt herself start to slip a, her mind ease in the serenity of the simple meditation. And so it was that she didn’t hear the light footsteps or even the voice that called for her. It wasn't until she felt strong hands wrap around her own and pull them from her face, that she jerked violently. 

She snarled and jerked her hands and, one dropping to her dagger, but before she could fully pull it from her sheathed, her mind registered the wide blue eyes staring up at her. 

"Kl-Klarke," she muttered hoarsely as she looked down. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"Shusha, Leska. It's ok." Clarke ran her hands up and down lexa's thighs, in what she hoped was a soothing gesture. And she smiled when Lexa began to relax. But the deep furrows in her brow eased very little, and a sad smile tugged at her lips. 

Clarke wrapped her fingers around Lexa’s, her heart slamming against her ribs. She hadn’t ever seen this look on Lexa’s face before. She wasn’t even sure how to describe the resigned sadness that lingered in the shadows and curves of her face. It frightened her far more than anything else she’d witnessed to date. She lifted Lexa’s hands to her mouth, pressing soft kisses to each knuckle. She shifted on her knees, ignoring the pain in her lower back. She laid her head in Lexa’s lap, and she was relieved when Lexa’s fingers came to her head and gently combed through her hair. 

She pressed forward against Lexa’s knees, sliding her arms up the sides of her thighs, until they just met around her hips. She let her eyes fall shut, in a quiet effort to stem the tears that threatened to break.

“Whatever it is, Leska, we will face it together.” She thanked the gods that her voice didn’t shake, that it was firm and strong, and she hoped Lexa was listening to her. “I love you. And we are stronger together.” She pulled back enough, raising her head so she could look up into Lexa’s wet, green eyes, and her heart broke a little. 

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” her voice broke this time, as she leaned forward again, pressing hard enough until, Lexa’s knees parted for her. She tugged Lexa forward, and she claimed the space between Lexa’s thighs for her own, and pressed her face into Lexa’s stomach. 

“I’m afraid.” It probably should have felt cowardly to admit it. Heda wasn’t afraid of anything. But Lexa...Lexa was terrified of losing that which she treasured most. Instead, she felt relief at admitting it out loud. “I’m afraid that by acknowledging you, I will paint a target upon your back.” 

“You mean to go along with the target already on my back?” Clarke chuckled wryly. “I’ve always had a target on my back, and it has only grown bigger.” She reluctantly drew back from the warmth of Lexa’s belly and sat back on her heels. She let her fingers lightly run up and across Lexa’s hips, enjoying the way Lexa shifted between her palms. 

“And what of you? You are Heda. You have always had a target on your back. It frightens me,” she admitted softly. She slid her hands up over Lexa’s hips, letting her fingers find the warm patch of skin under her shirt, just above the top of her pants. 

“I think that it doesn’t matter. We will always have targets upon our backs. We will always have to look over our shoulders, but by standing together, we show them we are stronger. That we aren’t easily defeated, that we have each other’s backs. If they fight Heda, they will have to fight me, and if they fight Wanheda, they will have to fight you,” she chuckled, “only an idiot will go against us both.” 

Lexa felt her eyes fill with tears, and she reached down cupping Clarke’s face. She let her thumbs trace gently over the other girl’s lips, and she bent down until she could press her mouth against Clarke’s, tasting her softly, drinking her in. 

“Together,” she murmured against Clarke’s lips. And the worry deep in her chest, slowly melted away. It would never fully leave, but she knew Clarke was right. They were stronger together, acknowledging Clarke was the strong move, the right move, and the move she wanted to make more than any other. 

Clarke hummed into the kiss, opening her mouth just enough to coax Lexa into slipping inside. She stumbled to her feet, trying not to break the kiss, ignoring the way their teeth scraped together. She managed to push Lexa back down onto the bed, and even managed to get her knee on the bed when a slim hand pressed firmly against her chest. She growled, breaking the kiss. 

“Leska, please,” she whined, not caring how desperate she sounded, how childish. But even as Lexa started to shake her head, she reached down and grabbed the hem of her shirt, pulling it off in one slightly awkward movement. She ignored the pain her stomach, the way the healing skin pulled a little too tightly, and she tossed the shirt to the floor. 

“Klark. We shouldn’t. You aren’t fully healed, and the feast starts soon…” her voice trailed off as she watched the determined blonde ignore her and start to unwrap the bindings around her chest. She shifted on the bed, debating the merit of fighting Clarke on this, or just giving in and letting herself enjoy her touch. But once the bindings fell away, her mind grew foggy. 

Clarke shuffled forward until she was straddling Lexa’s lap, wrapping arms around Lexa’s shoulders. “Are you sure you want to stop?” She licked her lips, leaning down slightly and nuzzling her face into Lexa’s neck. She licked at the salty skin, before sucking it gently into her mouth. She released it with a satisfied smile as she watched it start to darken and bruise. 

She trailed her fingers up Lexa’s back, under her hair to caress her neck. She shifted in Lexa’s lap, rolling her lips slightly, smiling at the gasp that fell from Lexa’s lips. “If you want me to stop, say it. And I will stop.” 

Lexa mutely shook her head, her brain foggy, her mind too consumed with the weight of Clarke in her lap, the tickle of her fingers against her skin, the slight musky smell that teased her nose. She wrapped her arms around around Clarke’s waist and turned her head, laying it on Clarke’s chest. She could hear the blonde’s heart beat, and she closed her eyes, letting the rhythm sooth her. 

Clarke looked down at the mass of curly hair splayed against her chest. She wrapped both arms firmly around Lexa and held her there. She leaned down awkwardly, shifting so she could kiss the top of Lexa’s head. Maybe this was what she needed.

She reluctantly let Lexa go, rubbing her hands up and down the girl’s arms, when it was obvious that she didn’t want to let Clarke go. “Hey, let’s move up on the bed, okay?” She shuffled off Lexa’s lap, ignoring Lexa’s disgruntled huff. She slithered off the bed, pushing Lexa’s hands away gently as the brunette grabbed for her. 

“Just let me get your boots off.” She smiled at Lexa’s needy whine, and when she glanced up from where she was unlacing Lexa’s boots, she chuckled at the pout gracing her beloved’s face. 

“Why don’t you take off your shirt and pants.” She laughed at Lexa’s raised eyebrow. “I just want you to be comfortable. We are going to cuddle.” 

“Cuddle?” 

“Yes, cuddle.” Clarke tossed the boots aside and quickly removed her own pants, leaving her in just her underwear. She smiled and climbed back on the bed, her hand going to the laces on Lexa’s pants. “Come on, baby, lift your hips.” 

It took only a few tugs, and Lexa’s pants joined Clarke’s on the floor, as did her shirt and her bindings. Clarke tugged Lexa down onto the bed, pulling the patchwork up over them both. She coaxed Lexa into her arms, and when the brunette rested her head on her chest, and her body sagged against Clarke’s, Clarke felt tears prick her eyes. There had been so many nights when she’d dreamed of Lexa, of holding Lexa, even when she hated Lexa. She had cursed herself for being weak and dreaming of Lexa, but the heart knows what it wants. And while she could deny herself during the day, at night her heart ruled her body and mind. 

She trailed her hand up and down Lexa’s back, reveling in the feel of her warm skin. Her fingers traced the stars on her back, and when Lexa shivered, she pressed her hand firmly against the stars. “It’s ok, baby.”

Lexa relaxed slowly, melting into Clarke’s warm body. She nuzzled at the slightly salty skin under her cheek, and she shifted against Clarke, letting her full weight settle against her. She wished she could crawl under Clarke’s skin, hide between her ribs, curl up in her chest. She supposed it was weird to think of such a thing, but she wanted to feel all of Clarke, be a part of Clarke. She wished, not for the first time, that she could simply meld with Clarke. She was sure it would make her a better person. She smiled against Clarke’s skin, turning enough to buss her lips across the top of her breast. 

But she stiffened when she felt the fingers trace the scars. They were a constant reminder of her sins, of what she’d had to give up. She both loved them and hated them. But she quickly relaxed when Clarke murmured to her, and she tightened her arm that was laying across Clarke’s belly. She reminded herself to relax though, as she didn’t want to hurt Clarke. 

She bit her lip, worrying it for a moment. She hid her face partly in the valley of Clarke’s breasts, breathing in the slight tang of her skin. “Ilikeithwhenyoucallmebaby.” The words were garbled, half syllables that refused to be caged behind her teeth anymore. 

Clarke craned her neck trying to look down at Lexa’s face, but her veil of hair was too much. “What did you say?” She pushed Lexa’s hair from her face, noting the blush stealing across her face. She rubbed her thumb against the hot cheek. 

“What did you say?”

“Nothing,” muttered Lexa as she tried to turn her face away. 

“Uh uh uh. Come on tell me. It must be important,” she chuckled a little, letting her thumb slide down Lexa’s cheek to rest against her lips. “You’re blushing,” she whispered. 

Lexa groaned and sighed, recognizing the tone of Clarke’s voice. She wasn’t going to give up any time soon. “I said….” she coughed a little, bringing her hand from around Clarke’s waist, to lightly trace the new, healing skin on her belly. “I said I like it when you call me baby.” She blushed even harder, dropping her head further onto Clarke’s chest, burying her nose in her sweet skin. 

Clarke smiled, just barely refraining from chuckling at her blushing lover. She pressed her thumb lightly against Lexa’s lips, grinning when the brunette obediently opened her mouth and licked the tip. “I’m glad you like it. I like saying it. You’re mine. My love, my baby, my heart.” She sighed in contentment when she felt Lexa’s tongue curl around her thumb, she shivered lightly. 

She bit back her moan when she felt Lexa’s lips close firmly around her thumb, her tongue cupping her thumb and sliding up and down. “Leska,” she choked out. She pressed her thumb down into Lexa’s tongue, before pulling it out of Lexa’s mouth. She nudged Lexa’s head, scooching down as much as she could. She nuzzled at her neck and cheek, before her teeth found the length of Lexa’s jaw. 

Lexa hissed in surprise when Clarke scraped her teeth along her jaw, and she shivered and shifted, bringing her legs up to tangle with Clarke’s. She rolled her hips, pushing Clarke more firmly on her back. She braced her hands on either side of Clarke’s head and stared down into bright blue eyes. “Your eyes are so blue,” she murmured absently. “I’ve never seen such a blue. Not the sky during the hot season, nor the ocean right before a storm.” She pressed her forehead against Clarke’s, “Your eyes are my favorite color. My favorite feeling.”

“Feeling?”

“Sha. The way I feel when you look at me. Even when you hated me. I burned every time you looked at me, and it hurt but I craved it. It slid across my skin, and burrowed into my muscles and turned my bones into stars. It built an altar where my heart once was.” 

She kissed across Clarke’s cheeks, tasting the salt that had slipped down. “Don’t cry, my love.” 

“How can I not, when I love you more than I ever hoped I could love anyone.” Clarke wrapped her arms around Lexa’s waist, tugging her down. She sighed deeply, closing her eyes when she felt Lexa’s breasts press against her own, her belly slide against hers, her legs slip between hers, her hips cradled between her own. 

  
They lay quiet and content, happy and free as the sun slipped below the horizon, and fires around the city sprang to life. And the people walked down the streets talking and laughing, the children shrieked and ran through the streets chasing each other, and drums began to pound. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry there wasn't any sex in this half, but Lexa was needy, and she needed cuddles. And Clarke being the good gf that she is, realized what Lexa needed. yay!


	49. Before the Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa get ready for the feast. But Clarke is more interested in a different type of feast. 
> 
> Also...please read the note in the beginning. Thank you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the 2nd part of the last chapter. So. Here's the deal. I normally write chapters that are 8,000 words or even more. Because I'm working on multiple stories right now, and I work quite a bit, I'm having trouble writing 8,000+ chapters and getting them to you in a more timely manner. I was aiming for at least one a month, but its been longer than that lately. 
> 
> So I'm thinking of writing smaller chapters instead, more like 3,500-4,000 words. I feel like I can probably post these a few times a month. So would you prefer to wait for weeks for a long chapter, or would you prefer smaller chapters that are posted more regularly? Please let me know in the comments. Thank you!

The sun had set and the bonfires were lit around the city. The drums had started in earnest, and Lexa could almost hear the flutes and the stomp of dancing feet from the center of Polis. She knew the massive bonfire would be lit, and the city would be crowding around it for the start of the feast. The people would eventually filter throughout the city, moving from one bonfire to another, eating and drinking as much as they could, and watching the different dancers and pantomines. There would be booths set up for people to play small games, and they could win small prizes and trinkets. The wine would flow, the food would overflow the long tables, and the revelry would reach crescendo heights before morning came. A few fist-fights might break out, but in general the people would celebrate together, forgetting hold clan ties and arguments.

The feast would last throughout the night, and when the sun rose again, the people of Polis would return to their homes and shops, carrying their sleeping children, shuffling through the quiet alleys, calling softly to each other in the pre-dawn light. Many would sleep for a few hours, and then open their shops, and in the afternoon they would all gather again for the games that would take place in the fields down near the docks. Warriors would test themselves against each other using all of their skills and brute strength. Others would show off their craftsmanship and the goods they made. Winners would be awarded with the best that Polis had to offer in weaponry, trade goods, and animal husbandry.

But now it was time to finish getting ready for the feast. The festival had already begun, but the feast had yet to be officially opened. Lexa smiled, anxious to show Clarke all that Polis had to offer, each clan would vie to offer the best of their goods skills to help cement relationships in the Coalition.

“Are you ready, Klark?” Lexa straightened her sash, pulling it carefully into place across her shoulder and down her breasts to her waist where it then wrapped around acting as a belt. She wore a black sheath dress underneath, but with black lace sewn over it. It was cut high enough to allow her to move about freely, and her outfit lacked any armor, but the leather boots she wore had knife sheaths carefully sewn into the sides. Once satisfied, she turned from the mirror, and fastened the leather and lace armguards to her wrists and forearms.

Clarke stepped out from the anteroom, tugging at the dress. It fit perfectly, but she hadn’t quite been expecting the cleavage to be so deep. The dress was a beautiful silver color with darker streaks of silver splashed throughout the material, and it was tighter around her hips, with slits up both sides to her upper thighs. She would have felt self-conscious except she wore thin blue leather boot-like pants that reached to mid-thigh and were fastened with garters. It showed enough flesh to be slightly scandalous, but not indecent. And she wore a beautiful, hand tooled leather corset in blue that matched her eyes. But it was the cleavage she worried most about, afraid that the fabric would not be enough to restrain gravity.

She stepped out, smiling when Lexa’s mouth dropped open a little, and she stared agape at Clarke. She walked over to Lexa, swinging her hips just enough to grab the brunette’s attention. She stepped up close to Lexa, leaving only a few inches between them. “You look beautiful, Leska.” She smiled at the blush that slowly blossomed across Lexa’s cheek, and she leaned in slowly pressing her lips gently against Lexa’s warm cheek.

Lexa swallowed hard, her mouth dry, and her eyes fluttered shut when she felt the warmth of Clarke’s lips press against her burning cheeks. She smiled when she felt Clarke’s hands slip around her waist. She slid her palms up under her forearms to cup her elbows. She squeezed her elbows lightly, letting her thumbs slide against the sensitive skin on the inside of her elbows. It was strangely intimate, but not invasive, and she waited for Clarke to press into her like she hoped she would. She was rewarded with the press of lush curves against her own slim frame. She sighed happily kissing Clarke tenderly, enjoying the way their lips fit perfectly.

She pulled back. “You’re beautiful, Klark. You always have been.” She grasped Clarke’s hands pulling away so she could get a better look at her. “Do you like the dress?”

Clarke nodded, “I do. I’ve never really worn anything quite like this before.” She shrugged a little, “Um…the front is cut kind of low though.”

Lexa’s gaze dropped down, and she licked her lips when she saw Clarke’s breasts almost spilling out of the dress. It was cut lower than she’d anticipated, and she shuffled closer to Clarke, her gaze still concentrated on Clarke’s cleavage. “So beautiful,” she muttered.

Clarke chuckled, “My eyes are up here, Leska. Didn’t you once say they were your favorite color, the most beautiful of all colors?”

 Lexa had the grace to blush, and she reluctantly pulled her gaze away from Clarke’s breasts. “Sha, yes, of course, Klark. I didn’t mean to…” she shrugged a little, blushing.

Clarke laughed and leaned in, pressing her mouth against Lexa’s. She swiped her tongue across her lower lip, begging for entrance, and once Lexa had opened her mouth, she licked into her mouth. She hummed, enjoying the taste of the mint she knew Lexa had eaten. And she wrapped her arms around Lexa’s waist, pulling her in tightly. They kissed for long moments, their hands plucking lightly at clothing, finding their way through hidden gaps, to stroke warm, silky skin.

Lexa reluctantly pulled away, letting her forehead rest against Clarke’s, their arms still wrapped around each other. “Klark, we should go.”

“No.”

“No? Klark, we need to open the feast.” Lexa stepped back, but was immediately trapped by Clarke’s arms. She sighed in amusement at the way the blonde shook her head, pouting ever so slightly.

“We can stay here a little longer, can’t we?” Clarke pleaded as she leaned in, bussing her lips across the smooth skin of Lexa’s neck. She nibbled along her jawline, enjoying the way Lexa automatically moved her neck and lifted her chin to give Clarke more access. So wrapped up in kissing Lexa, she didn’t notice when the brunette had dropped her hands to the inside of Clarke’s arms and pulled them apart, enough to step back.

"Come we must go." Lexa stepped further away from Clarke so as not to be tempted. She held out her hand hoping Clarke would take it. Holding hands was not a common Trikru practice in public, but she wanted to hold Clarke’s hand at least as they walked through the tower.

Clarke grabbed her hand, and stepped quickly into Lexa’s space, moving their intertwined hands behind Lexa’s back, while her other arm wrapped around Lexa’s waist. It was a slightly awkward position for Lexa, as it left her vulnerable with her arm behind her back. But she quickly forgot about it as Clarke pressed her breasts against Lexa’s, breathing huskily near her ear.

“Must we? Didn’t you say that the feast can’t start without Heda, and there is plenty for the people to do while they wait?

“Klark,” groaned Lexa, as she battled with knowing what she should do and what she wanted to do.

“Besides, you said yourself that the clans don’t really keep track of time the way the Skaikru do. Heda is never early and never late. Heda is always on time,” Clarke chuckled and leaned in brushing her lips against Lexa’s delicate collarbone. She nibbled playfully, and then laved the curves with her tongue.

“I think it’s time I paid attention to Heda. Don’t you agree?” She didn’t bother to wait for an answer as she grasped Lexa by the hips, turning her around and moving her backwards until Lexa bumped into the table. Clarke reached around, and grabbed a handful of Lexa’s dress, dragging it up until she could palm the back of Lexa’s thighs. She abruptly lifted Lexa up onto the table, and she smirked when she was rewarded with a startled gasp, and Lexa automatically grabbed her shoulders to steady herself.

Clarke ignored the pull on the healing skin of her belly and leaned in, licking a long wet strip up Lexa’s neck to her pulse. She sucked on her pulse before she bit down sharply, just enough to hurt but not enough break the skin. And when Lexa grabbed at her head to hold her there, she knew she’d won.

She knew that they didn’t really have enough time to do all that she wanted, so she would settle for feeling Lexa against her fingers. She slipped the sash off Lexa’s shoulder, letting it pool at her waist, before she pressed sloppy kisses along the edge of lace that covered her breasts. She slid her tongue along the smooth skin, nipping a little until Lexa grabbed her face and pulled her upward so she could kiss her hard.

They battled for control of the kiss, and Clarke almost squealed when Lexa bit her lower lip and then scraped her teeth along her tongue. She groaned when she felt Lexa’s hands palm her breasts, and she straightened and let go of Lexa just long enough to slip her shoulders out of the bodice of the dress. It took a little wiggling and some help from Lexa, but the moment her breasts slipped free, Lexa pressed her face against them.

Clarke smirked at the way her lover eagerly kissed and sucked at her breasts, and she shifted feeling the wetness gather between her thighs. She could feel her clit swell slightly, and she didn’t bother to stifle the moan when Lexa’s lips slid around her nipple, pulling it firmly into her hot mouth.

She pushed her hands up under Lexa’s dress, smirking when the older girl shifted and opened her legs to give her room. She wrapped one arm around Lexa’s waist, and shifted to the side so she could cup Lexa’s heat with her hand. The shift caused Lexa to let go of her nipple with a soft mewl, and Clarke gasped when Lexa flicked her fingers against her hard nipples.

She cupped Lexa, smiling as her fingers explored the wet fabric between her thighs. “You seem a little wet, baby,” she teased. And she laughed outright when Lexa glared at her. Her thumb found Lexa’s clit through her underwear, and she pressed her thumb firmly against it, grinding a little. And when Lexa groaned and leaned back on her arms, she accepted the invitation and pressed her body into Lexa’s, her mouth latching on to her neck.

“D-don’t leave any marks, Klark.”

Clarke pouted, but eased up at the pressure of her mouth on Lexa’s neck. She knew it wasn’t wise to mark her where everyone could see. And she didn’t particularly want to be marked in return. At least not where it was so blatantly visible. Instead she promised herself she would mark Lexa somewhere else, only where she could see it. But that would have to wait.

She gently pushed Lexa back on to the table, determined to rid her lover of her underwear and taste her. Lexa was the feast she was most interested in. But Lexa pressed her hand against her bare breasts and pushed Clarke back so she could sit up.

“No, I want to feel you inside me. Like this.” She reached down and grabbed Clarke’s hand that was between her legs and drew it up to her mouth. She flicked her tongue against Clarke’s fingertips, curling it around each digit, before sucking Clarke’s index and middle finger into her mouth. She sucked and rubbed her tongue along Clarke’s fingers, and she groaned when she felt Clarke press down on her tongue, causing her to open her mouth.

“That is so fucking hot,” Clarke blurted out, and then winced. That certainly wasn’t romantic, but she relaxed when Lexa’s shoulders shook with quiet mirth, and the older girl deliberately sucked on her fingers one more time before pulling them out of her mouth and guiding Clarke’s hand back between her legs to rest against her underwear.

“Now show me how much you love me, Wanheda,” murmured Lexa as she brought both arms up around Clarke’s neck, proud at the shocked arousal painting Clarke’s face.

Clarke swallowed hard, all the moisture in her mouth having already headed south. She nodded dumbly, her mind foggy, and she could barely formulate a complete thought, as she felt her skin start to tingle and burn.

“Sha, Heda.” She pushed against the inside of Lexa’s thighs so she opened more for her, and she pressed against the edge of the table trying to find some relief on her aching clit.

She pulled Lexa’s damp underwear aside, and gently explored her wet folds. She circled her clit with her fingers and pressed her mouth against Lexa’s, swallowing the girl’s moan. She dipped into her entrance, gathering the moisture there and spread it up her sex to smear it across her swollen clit.

Lexa moaned into Clarke’s mouth, her hands tightening on her shoulders. She tilted her hips, trying to coax Clarke to enter her, and when the blonde stubbornly refused, she reached down with one hand, her fingers finding Clarke’s nipple, and she twisted it briefly causing the blonde to lurch into her. “Inside, Klark. I want you inside.”

Clarke nodded, deciding the wiser action would be to not ignore Heda’s demand. Her nipple burned and she pressed her breast further into Lexa’s palm, hoping she would take the hint, and she was rewarded with both of Lexa’s hands cupping her breasts and playing with her nipples.

She kissed Lexa again, her tongue painting the inside of Lexa’s mouth, and she sunk one finger inside of Lexa’s tight heat. She gave her no warning, and she swallowed Lexa’s whimpers and groans as she slowly pumped in an out. She shuddered at the feel of the velvet heat clasping at her finger, and she never wanted to stop, but soon Lexa raised her hips, one arm grabbing at her shoulder in an attempt to encourage her to go faster.

Clarke chuckled against the hot skin of Lexa’s neck, sucking lightly along her collarbone. She shook her head, refusing Lexa’s wordless bidding. She pushed up inside of Lexa, dragging her fingertip along her front wall, pulling all the way out only to push back in again, slow and sure.

Lexa raised her hips again, trying to encourage Clarke to do what she wanted, but the blonde was being stubborn. She cursed and fumbled, pulling herself more upright. She dropped both hands to Clarke’s dress, and leaned in, knowing she was hindering Clarke’s movements, and making the younger girl bend her wrist awkwardly.

She sucked Clarke’s nipple into her mouth, rolling the hardened bud with her tongue, before gently scraping her teeth across it. She was rewarded with a hard whimper from Clarke, and she pulled at Clarke’s dress, pulling it up to her hips.

“Spread your legs, hodness,” she muttered against Clarke’s breasts, and she bit down lightly when Clarke hesitated. “Spread,” she commanded, and she chuckled when the blonde immediately obeyed this time. She pushed Clarke’s underwear aside, her fingertips immediately greeted by overflowing wetness, she groaned and pushed two fingers inside of Clarke’s wet heat. She slid in easily, and Clarke shuddered above her. She wrapped her arm around Clarke waist, and used her as leverage to inch her way to the very edge of the table. The edge bit into the back of her upper thighs, and it wasn’t the most comfortable position, but she didn’t think either of them would last much longer anyway.

Clarke groaned, when she felt Lexa sink inside her, and she pulled her hand out from Lexa’s wet heat and grasped the edge of the table. She felt Lexa inch forward, and she was able to clear her muddled brain enough to wrap her arm around her and help her. She slipped her hand back between Lexa’s thighs, her fingers wiggling until they found her wet heat again, and she slowly pushed two fingers inside of Lexa.

She groaned when she felt Lexa’s thumb land on her clit and grind down, and she clenched around Lexa’s fingers, the heat in her belly burning in a small ball. It took a few sloppy, shallow thrusts before they found a rhythm that allowed them to pump their fingers just the way they both liked. And Clarke slid her thumb back and forth over Lexa’s clit, while Lexa pressed firmly on Clarke’s clit, wiggling it ever so slightly, knowing her lover liked a firmer touch, while she liked a gentler one.

It wasn’t long before they were gasping, the air fogging and warming around them as they lips slipped messily against each other, their teeth clacking, and their tongues rubbing against each other. The air was filled with their sighs and moans, the sound of fingers squelching, and Lexa was pretty sure that her dress was now destroyed but she didn’t care. It was hot and tight, and just a little bit dirty, and Lexa whimpered into Clarke’s mouth, her fingers stuttering as she felt Clarke press against that one delicious spot inside, and she felt the heat gather at the base of her spine, and then unravel quickly, and flush down her bottom and thighs, and she groaned and jerked in Clarke’s arms as waves of pleasure split up her spine.

The moment Clarke felt Lexa jerk in her arms, and let out a filthy groan that she just managed to swallow, Clarke felt herself tighten and the heat in her belly unraveled and she groaned, clenching hard around Lexa’s fingers. She let out a sob when she felt Lexa hook her fingers and thrust into her once, and then twice helping her ride the crest of her orgasm.

The collapsed against each other, gasping for breath, heat in their cheeks, their eyes shining. Clarke buried her face in Lexa’s neck, panting while she tried to regain use of her limps. She felt weak, her legs and arms heavy. She finally managed to pull back, kissing Lexa lightly while she carefully withdrew at the same time that Lexa withdrew.

Lexa smiled and lifted her hand to her mouth, licking her fingers clean of Clarke’s juices. She hummed and smiled around the fingers in her mouth, feeling slightly sad when they were finally clean. She licked her lips and carefully pushed off the table, her legs unsteady.

Clarke caught her just as she stumbled, and she pulled Lexa tight into her arms. “I love you,” she muttered pressing open mouth kisses along her collarbone, licking the light sheen of sweat there.

Lexa tangled her hands in Clarke’s hair and kissed her hard. “I love you too.” She nuzzled Clarke’s cheek, enjoying the heat from the blonde’s red cheeks. She reluctantly stepped back, straightening her dress. She winced at the feel of her wet underwear before realizing that they were too uncomfortable to keep wearing. She peeled them off, tossing them in the pile of laundry. She beckoned to Clarke to follow her.

Clarke carefully tucked her breasts back into her dress, pulling ineffectually at the bodice before giving up. If her breasts popped out later tonight, they would all get an eyeful and would all just have to understand. Although she wasn’t sure if Lexa wouldn’t remove a few heads from shoulders from any revelers who might be a little too interested in looking.

She followed Lexa to the cracked bureau in the corner, and once Lexa had pulled out underwear, she gratefully took them, peeling off her own ruined underwear. “Where do I put these?”

Lexa smiled and held out her hand, wiggling her fingers when Clarke just stared at her. She dropped them in Lexa’s hand assuming she would toss them on top of Lexa’s own in the pile of laundry. But instead Lexa grinned wickedly at her and brought them to her lips, sucking the wet strip into her mouth.

Clarke’s mouth dropped open a little and heat suffused her face. She hadn’t been prepared for the wicked gleam in Lexa’s eyes or the way she curled her tongue around the wet strip and sucked it into her mouth. And the moan Lexa let out was absolutely filthy, and Clarke’s brain derailed, and she moved forward quickly, intent on pushing Lexa back onto the bed and ravishing every inch of her body. But she was stopped with a firm hand to her chest.

“We need to quickly clean up and go to the feast.” Lexa stepped back and carefully folded the underwear before turning to the small chest sitting atop the bureau. She opened the lid and put the underwear in them, patting them once before closing the chest.

“Really, Lexa? My underwear?”

Lexa smirked, “They are my underwear now, Klark.” She grabbed Clarke’s hand pulling her towards the bathroom, intent on quickly cleaning up and heading to the feast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...thoughts?


	50. I don't even know what chapter we are on at this point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clexa! Clexa! Nightmares, cuddling, smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so....I totally skipped the festival. I had a lot of trouble writing it, so this chapter takes place that night. I know...I copped out, and I'm sorry. So to make up for it: here is some angst, fluff, and sin. 
> 
> If you all really want to read about the festival, I will make an effort to write the chapter and post it, so it is before this one in the timeline.

She wasn’t sure what woke her up, but she lay there quietly in the pre-dawn hours listening intently for the intrusive sound that had roused her. She could hear the faint sounds of the street as tired revelers making their way to their beds, while other citizens of Polis were just starting their day, headed to the large grain fields, or down to the docks to launch the morning’s fishing expeditions.

Her eyes were heavy and itchy with the lack of sleep, and just as she had decided she’d imagined the sound, she heard it again; a whimper, followed by the jerk of shifting of muscles. She immediately rolled over, her chest brushing against the back of her lover.

“Clarke?” She tentatively curled her hand around Clarke’s bicep, squeezing gently when she felt Clarke jerk and kick in the bed. She shifted closer, pressing tightly into Clarke’s back, her arm coming around Clarke’s waist, searching blindly under the furs for one of her hands. She found them tucked under her chin, the blonde’s body bowed and trapped in the grips of a nightmare.

She wrapped her fingers around Clarke’s fist, under her chin, and leaned over her shoulder, nuzzling at her sweaty cheek. “Clarke, hodness? It’s ok. It’s ok,” she murmured as Clarke jerked and shifted hard in her arms, before she stiffened and whimpered one more time, before finally opening her eyes.

“Clarke?”

It was long moments before Clarke registered the soft voice calling to her. And when she finally realized that she was no longer asleep, no longer standing in the ruins of a blood-soaked mountain, she curled her body tighter, hunching her shoulders away from Lexa. She didn’t dare close her eyes again, no matter how heavy and gritty they felt, no matter how many tears blurred her vision. If she closed her eyes again, she’d be sucked into the endless void of her nightmare.

Her chest was hollow, her mouth dry and sour. Her ribs ached, whether from holding back her own cries and tears or from the endless cold cracking inside of her; she didn’t know. But she didn’t deserve the warmth at her back, the soft words falling on her ears, the slightly musky smell of Lexa as she bent over her. The brunette smelled faintly of warm sleep and wine, and her voice was husky as she pressed closer to Clarke, refusing to allow the other girl to retreat and hide from her.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

She laughed bitterly, choking a little on the words, her voice cracking with fatigue; “What’s the point? It’s always the same,” she muttered. She shifted, trying to withdraw from Lexa’s arms, but the brunette wouldn’t let her go. She could feel the lingering shame burning her cheeks, and her stomach heaved.

“I’m sorry, Klark,” Lexa sighed, her voice catching a little on her name, as she buried her face in the back of Clarke’s neck. She was no stranger to nightmares, not her own, and not Clarke’s. But she wished she could take the blonde’s from her, carry them for her, hold them in her own chest, and suffer the pain of Clarke’s choices.

“I know,” whispered Clarke. She uncurled her fists, and tangled both hands with Lexa’s hand. She stretched, unbending slightly, lifting her face to the room. Her neck was bathed in sweat, and she grimaced, sighing before shifting and turning on her back, forcing Lexa back.

Lexa rolled with her, propping herself up on her arm, so she could still lean over Clarke slightly. She peered at her in the dim light of the few candles that were burned down to almost a nub. The blonde’s eyes were bright in the thin shadows that fell across her face. Her cheeks were flushed, but underneath the blossoms of pink, her skin was pale and slightly wan.

She pulled her hand from Clarke’s, sliding it across the blonde’s belly. She wasn’t wearing a sleep shirt, the blonde having complained of being overly warm when they’d finally stumbled to bed after too many hours of drinking wine and celebrating the arrival of Spring, as the Arker’s called it.

She lightly traced the healing wound, her eyes stinging with salt, as she again thought of how close she’d come to losing Clarke. It wasn’t something she was prepared to tell Clarke, how she often thought of those moments, when she thought she’d truly lost Clarke. She didn’t tell the blonde of her fear of one day losing her, of how she didn’t think she would ever survive it, how she was sure she would simply lay down and follow Clarke to her grave.

She leaned down, tenderly kissing along the healing wound, gently laving the new skin with her tongue. She tasted of warm salt and possibility.

“Do the nightmares ever go away?”

Lexa hesitated, her lips pressed to Clarke’s belly. She looked up at Clarke, smiling sadly. “They are the price we pay.” She slipped her hand between the valley of Clarke’s breasts, propping her chin on her hand. “We carry our ghosts with us, Klark.”

“Our punishment then.” Her words were blunt and heavy, and Lexa could hear the exhaustion, the resignation in each word.

“The ghosts aren’t here to punish us, Klark. They are here to remind us of the cost of our choices. Each choice we make as leaders, reverberates throughout the clans, effects each farmer, warrior, each child; whether they are out enemies or our allies.” She sighed quietly. “It was a choice that I had to learn the hard way.”

Clarke craned her head to look down at Lexa, surprised at her words. Lexa was ancient, endless, a divinity in a young woman’s body, her wisdom passed down in reincarnated form. Or so it seemed. It surprised her to learn that Lexa had earned her wisdom the hard way.

“After Costia…” her voice trailed off for a moment, and Clarke heard the residual sadness that always accompanied the other woman’s name. The pain that lingered and colored Lexa’s words was no threat to Clarke, but simply made Clarke ache for a woman she had never met, only knew of through Lexa. Loving Lexa meant loving Costia, and she felt her heart beat to the pulse of her name. _Costia._

“I…I had lost everything. At least I thought I had. Nothing could stop my rage, my desire for revenge. I launched a campaign against the Broga, so bloody, that the last of the clans fell in line, afraid of the destruction I would rain down upon their heads.”

Her voice shook, and Clarke could almost feel the edge of pain in Lexa’s voice, slicing against her own skin. She reached down, wrapping her arms around Lexa’s shoulders, pulling the woman up, until Lexa lay on top of her.

 “I shed so much blood, Klark. I took so _much_. So much from my people. And when I neared the end of my campaign, when I saw what I had done…I couldn’t do it anymore. I allowed the Broga into my Coalition.” She laughed bitterly, “Oh I said the campaign was necessary to form the Coalition, to bring about a lasting peace. It was true. In part. But I needed someone else to feel my pain, and while I took my war to the warriors of the last of the clans…” she sighed heavily, “it was the farmers, the villagers, the elders, the children, who also suffered. I had inadvertently waged war on them, I’d forgotten that they were my people, and deserving of more.”

“Most of my ghosts, Klark, are those…are the ones who died during my campaign. It’s the warriors that I led into battle who never returned, the children who were forced to flee their homes as my warriors attacked. They aren’t there to punish me, but to remind me that it isn’t just I who bears the cost of my decisions, but my people must also bear the cost.”

Clarke nodded slowly, not sure what to say. It made sense, and maybe if she stopped being so afraid of her ghosts, maybe if she decided to remember them, to let them teach her and make her a better leader…

“You are strong enough, Klark. You will get through this. And when you feel like you aren’t strong enough, lean on me. I’m here. I’m always here.”

The tears erupted this time, spilling down her cheeks, and she reached blindly for Lexa’s face, dragging the woman closer to her, smashing her mouth against Lexa’s. It was all teeth and tongue, and she winced at the faint taste of copper on her tongue, but she didn’t care enough to take the time to mutter half-broken apologies, too consumed with the raw need to somehow show Lexa that she understood, that she loved her, that she needed her.

She raised her hips and twisted, trying to roll Lexa under her, but the other woman pushed down with her hips and slipped her hands underneath Clarke’s shoulders, curling her fingers around the top of her shoulders, effectively preventing Clarke from rolling her. She buried her face in Clarke’s neck, kissing and sucking hungrily, her mouth cracking into a smile when Clarke whined and huffed at her.

“Leska!” She punctuated the word with a sharp push of her hips, but Lexa only chuckled.

“You had your way with me earlier, Klark, now it’s my turn.” She turned her head, nibbling along Clarke’s jaw, sucking lightly, and dragging her teeth along her warm flesh.

Clarke groaned in faux annoyance, craning her head slightly to give Lexa better access. She wasn’t sure which she preferred, when Lexa was a soft and mewling thing in her arms, pliant and warm, or when she was a storm rolling across Clarke’s flesh in a fever of teeth and tongue. Either way, it was deeply satisfying, leaving her breathless with desire, and shivering with love for the commander.

Lexa grinned smugly, shifting and wiggling her hips, until Clarke parted her legs, bending her knees so that Lexa could rest in the cradle of her thighs. She kissed and bit gently along Clarke’s collarbones, leaving a necklace of lilac blossoms in her wake. She soothed and decorated each blossom with her tongue, until they were shiny and slightly swollen. She loved each one, a testament of her desire.

She kissed and licked her way down Clarke’s chest, paying special attention to her breasts, tracing the curves with her tongue, sucking the nipples into her mouth, and rolling them gently between her teeth. She pulled back just enough so she could balance on her knees and one hand, while she fumbled under the furs, her hand finally grasping the top of Clarke’s underwear, and pulling them down to her knees before she growled in frustration.

Clarke laughed and sat up, pushing Lexa back onto her heels, the furs falling around their waists. She shimmied until her underwear were down around her ankles, and Lexa grabbed them, yanking them off and sending them flying somewhere in the room.

“Lexa! I’m going to need them later!”

“No, you won’t,” muttered Lexa as she leaned forward, pressing wet open kisses along Clarke’s upper chest, pushing her back down onto the bed.

“I want to put them back on before I go to bed,” muttered Clarke as she slipped her fingers into Lexa’s hair, scratching lightly at the girl’s scalp.

“No, no more underwear. They get in my way,” argued Lexa. “You shouldn’t ever wear them,” she pouted.

Clarke slid her hands down around Lexa’s neck to cup her cheeks and pull her face towards her’s, “you are too adorable. But I doubt even you would like it if I went without underwear while meeting with the ambassadors.”

Lexa snarled, “Fine. But in here….no underwear? Beja?” She stuck out her lower lip, causing it to tremble, as she rubbed her cheek against Clarke’s.

Clarke chuckled, “Fine. But then you can’t wear underwear in our bedroom either.” She laughed at Lexa’s surprised look. “What goes around, comes around, Heda. We play by the same rules.”

Lexa glared and stuck out her tongue, smiling when Clarke laughed even harder. “Come on, Heda,” murmured Clarke softly, “off with your clothes. All of them.”

Lexa pushed up on her knees and ripped off the thin shirt she had been wearing in one smooth motion. She tossed it over the side of the bed, and then rolled onto her back, so she could shimmy out of her shorts. She tossed them off the bed too, smiling when Clarke’s eyes grew bigger at the sight of her naked.

“I don’t usually wear underwear to bed, remember?” she teased, shrugging and watching intently as Clarke rolled onto her side, bringing her hand up to Lexa’s belly.

Clarke rubbed her belly, trailing her fingers lightly down across her hipbones, pressing into the little valleys of flesh. She bit her lip, gaze never leaving Lexa’s freshly shaved sex. She danced her fingertips lightly over Lexa’s smooth, warm folds before finally looking up at Lexa. “You shaved?”

Lexa shrugged, feeling the heat burn her face a little. “I…um…I asked…uh…around. I noticed that you shaved everything but a small strip, and I thought you might like this…” she gestured vaguely down towards her sex, her face burning hotter with every word.

“You didn’t have to, but I must admit…I’m greatly intrigued,” teased Clarke, before suddenly growing serious again, “Wait. Who did you ask?”

Lexa groaned, throwing one arm over her eyes, while Clarke squealed a little and started immediately pulling at Lexa’s arm.

“It can’t be that bad! Who did you ask?”

“Ugh. I asked Raven,” Lexa carefully peered over the top of her arm, growling again as her cheeks flooded with heat again as Clarke laughed.

“Oh gaia…she must have loved that!”

Lexa sat up and rolled quickly, forcing Clarke onto her back again. She pressed her body down against Clarke’s making the other girl stutter mid-laugh. “I might have threatened her to never repeat our conversation,” she muttered as she ducked her head, burying her hot face in Clarke’s neck.

Clarke chuckled again, wrapping her arms around Lexa, her heart light and full. She’d needed to laugh, to remember that the life she now lived wasn’t about surviving but was about this right here, about this moment with Lexa in her arms.

“Well I might not have noticed before, but I can rectify that now,” Clarke wiggled her eyebrows while leering at Lexa, laughing as the brunette blushed again and then rolled her eyes.

Lexa wiggled again, pushing her hips down against Clarke, grunting when the blonde refused to open her legs. “Claaaarke,” she whined, pouting as the other girl ran her hands up and down Lexa’s naked back.

“You can’t just shave and not let me touch, Leska,” murmured Clarke as she pressed her lips to Lexa’s pulse, kissing it lightly, then sucking gently on it, gratified when the brunette hissed and pressed harder against her.

“N-no, it’s my turn,” muttered Lexa, distracted by the hot press of Clarke’s mouth along her neck. She reluctantly pulled back, effectively removing Clarke’s mouth from her neck. She ignored Clarke’s huff of indignation, kissing her hard, silencing any further protests from the other girl.

This time, when she pressed with her hips, Clarke bent her knees and spread her legs, and Lexa settled into the cradle of her thighs, humming in approval. She kissed her way across her clavicle, kissing each lilac blossom she’d left earlier, admiring her handiwork, much to Clarke’s amusement.

She buried her face between Clarke’s breasts, enjoying the feel of them against her face, again much to Clarke’s amusement, and she considered simply staying there for the rest of the night, but other enticements lay further south. She licked and sucked, nibbling along the curves of her breasts, scraping her teeth across her nipples, and sucking them into her mouth. She rolled them with her tongue, pulling lightly on them, feeling them plump and harden in her mouth.

She shimmied lower, deliberately angling her body, so she could drag her abs against Clarke’s wet sex. She shivered at the feel of Clarke’s juices painting streaks along her skin, and as much as she wanted to rub herself against Clarke’s clit, she wanted to taste her more. So she licked and sucked, nipping along Clarke’s hipbones, rubbing her lips along the curve of slight tummy, until she was finally where she wanted to be.

She waited a moment, drinking in the sight of Clarke’s lips pouting open, flushed a dark pink underneath the thin strip of carefully trimmed blonde curls. “You’re beautiful,” she murmured, placing a tender kiss against her slit. She wanted to be gentle, tender; she wanted to luxuriate in the feel and taste of Clarke, but she was too anxious and eager to have her fill of her immediately.

She flattened her tongue and licked from her entrance to her clit, sucking it into her mouth and teasing it, coaxing it to plump against her tongue. It only takes a few sucks, before Clarke is pressing herself down into Lexa’s mouth, her clit hardening almost immediately. She’s already so wet, that Lexa doesn’t need to coax it out of her, and she doesn’t hesitate to circle Clarke’s entrance with the tip of her finger, dipping in just enough for Clarke to feel it, before retreating again.

“Stop teasing, Leska,” husked Clarke as she gripped the furs in her fist, her other hand reaching blindly for Lexa’s head, swatting her slightly on the side of her temple, as Leska chuckled against Clarke’s wet flesh.

“You want something, Klark?” She hummed against Clarke’s wet sex, massaging her sex with her tongue, circling her entrance, only to retreat and lick broad swipes up her slit, flicking her clit firmly, as Clarke groaned and jerked her hips against Lexa’s mouth. Lexa chuckled again, bringing her finger back to Clarke’s entrance, sinking the tip inside of Clarke.

“If you want something, Klark, you should just ask,” she teased as she massaged around the ring of muscle, enjoying the way her finger slid through her wetness.

“Leskaaaa,” whined Clarke, as her hand finally found purchase in Lexa’s hair. She tugged it lightly, not enough to hurt, but enough for Lexa to get the hint. “Beja, hodness, beja,” she mumbled, her voice cracking a little under the force of her gritting her teeth as the heat curled in her belly. She imagined it forming a tight ball of heat in her lower belly, pulsing with every breath she took. She whimpered.

Lexa sunk her finger all the way inside of Clarke, before the last word was out of her mouth, and she growled a little at the way Clarke tried to pull her deeper into her sex. Her sex was like wet velvet, and she shuddered as she felt Clarke clench around her. She kissed her clit, before sucking it into her mouth, tugging on it lightly, as she started thrusting inside of Clarke, quickly finding a rhythm that soon had Clarke groaning and writhing against the furs.

She could tell it wouldn’t take long, and she flicked her tongue against Clarke’s clit, sucking on it and then flicking her tongue underneath it while sucking. She was rewarded with a gush of wetness and a strangled cry, as she felt Clarke clench tighter around her finger, and she twisted her finger, helping Clarke draw out her orgasm.

Her orgasm snuck up on her suddenly, and it was sliding across her skin and punching into her chest before she even realized the pleasure skating along her nerves. Her muscles tightened, and she gasped and whimpered, kicking out slightly with her legs, as she felt Lexa pump inside of her, slower this time, until she stopped all together.

She groaned and licked her dry lips, her legs shaking slightly, splayed out against the furs. She huffed, blowing her hair out of her face, but some of the hairs stuck to her damp cheeks, and she reached up with a careless hand, swiping them away. She craned her neck to look down, “Leska?”

She started to sit up, but fell back on the furs with a surprised thump as Lexa pushed her down, hovering over her on hands and knees. “Leska, what are you…” but Lexa cut her off abruptly, covering her mouth with her own, her tongue pressing hard against her lips. She opened her mouth, unprepared for Lexa’s onslaught as her tongue invaded her mouth, mapping every inch of it. She groaned at the feel of Lexa’s tongue curling around her own, licking inside her mouth, their teeth clacking together.

 It was messy and rough, and Clarke trembled and shook, the dulled heat in her blood flaring to life and smoldering along her nerves. She slid one arm around Lexa’s back, trying to pull the older girl down on top of her, but Lexa resisted, instead moving so her knee was between Clarke’s legs. She felt Lexa cup her sex, her fingers pressing against her, and she groaned again, nodding her head as much as she could, and she hissed and jerked hard, when she felt two fingers push inside of her.

She could barely breathe, under Lexa’s relentless pressing into her mouth. The brunette had sucked her tongue into her mouth, and Clarke could do nothing but whimper and twist her hips, as she wrapped her fists in Lexa’s hair, holding on as Lexa thrust inside of her.

Lexa thrust her fingers inside of Clarke’s tight heat, stretching her even more. She twisted her fingers, and then hooked them against Clarke’s front wall when she dragged them out again, pulling them out completely, and sliding her wet fingers up Clarke’s slit to fondle her clit, pinching it between her fingers.

She smiled against Clarke’s mouth, when the blonde grunted, and she rubbed her clit firmly, enjoying the way the blonde groaned into her mouth, jerking her hips away from her, only to press her sex back into Lexa’s hand. She massaged the ring of wet muscles, teasing her entrance, until Clarke tugged sharply on her hair, and she slid back in with one smooth thrust.

She slid her knee behind her hand, and planted her other hand more firmly next to Clarke’s head, and she started to pump her fingers inside of Clarke’s slick sex, angling her hips, so she could put her knee behind her hand and thrust with more force. She nipped at Clarke’s mouth, pulling on her lips with her teeth, sucking on her tongue, and scraping it with her teeth, while Clarke simply groaned and trembled under her.

She could feel Clarke slowly tightening around her fingers, and she thrust harder, her ears filled with the sounds of Clarke’s whimpers and moan, and the wet sucking sound of her sex. She could feel the sweat slicking her skin, and her arm was tiring, but she could feel Clarke’s orgasm just out of reach, hovering somewhere underneath muscle and sinew, buried somewhere deep in her bones, and she determined to coax it out of Clarke.

Clarke could feel her mind slowly going blank, all her thoughts slowly melting and dripping away like paint on a wet canvas, as she could do nothing but feel the force of Lexa’s thrusts, the drag of her fingers against her front wall, the taste of her tongue plundering her mouth, the pounding of her heart in ears, and the bruising ache in her sex. The pain was dull, but pleasure flared along the edges, and she could feel a burning deep inside, rising to the surface, and she wanted to cry and scream, as she choked and her body twisted under Lexa.

Her muscles pulled impossibly tight, and the burning intensified and slithered along her bones, and she felt as if her chest had cracked open with the force of the groan that escaped passed her teeth as the heat swamped her entire body. Her vision went white, and her breath stuttered in her throat, as she trembled underneath Lexa, her body curled. She dug her fingers hard into Lexa’s scalp, holding on as her hips rocked up into Lexa, riding the crest of the heat.

Lexa pressed her face into Clarke’s neck, licking and sucking on the warm skin, as she thrust one last time, her thumb finding Clarke’s clit, grinding down on it, as she milked the orgasm from Clarke’s shaking frame.

It was long moments before Clarke stopped trembling, and her hands slipped out of Lexa’s hair, to fall to her sides. Her chest heaved, as she tried to catch her breath. She could still feel Lexa’s fingers inside of her, and she clenched around her fingers, her hips shaking slightly at the final tremors of her orgasm.

“Leska,” she croaked, her throat tight and dry. She tried to reach up and tap Lexa on the shoulder, but her arms were too heavy and tired. “Leska, can you move?” Her skin was flushed, and the heat prickling between her body, and Lexa’s from where the brunette had slumped down upon her, wasn’t pleasant, but wet and itchy.

Lexa muttered and lifted her head, dusting a soft kiss along Clarke’s chin. “Sorry. Just relax. I need to pull out.” She could feel how tight Clarke still was around her fingers, as her muscles were slow to relax after such an intense orgasm. She bit her lip, and carefully slid out, wincing when Clarke winced in discomfort. She rubbed her wet hand along Clarke’s belly, pressing into her side, kissing along her shoulder and the curve of her breast.

“Was I too rough?” She held her breath, afraid that she might have caused Clarke pain, afraid that Clarke wouldn’t like her losing control like that.

“Rough? God, no. That was perfect, Leska. You are perfect.” Clarke turned her head, kissing Lexa’s forehead. She groaned and carefully stretched her legs. She yawned, sleep creeping up on her. “I would throw my arm around you, but you wore me out.” She huffed and chuckled. “You did me in, Heda.” She closed her eyes, too tired and satiated to keep them open any more.

Lexa giggled, relief zipping along her nerves, as she kissed Clarke tenderly, cupping her cheek, and rubbing her nose against Clarke’s.

“Did you just giggle?”

“No, Heda doesn’t giggle.” Lexa scowled as she looked down at Clarke, but the playful scowl quickly became a smile as she noticed Clarke’s eyes were closed, her breath starting to even out. She sat up and grabbed one of the furs, pulling it over them both before laying back down next to Clarke, snuggling into her side, one arm around the top of her stomach.

“It sounded like a giggle,” murmured Clarke, sleep thickening her voice. She hummed, and started to drift off, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“You imagined it. Your orgasm made you imagine it,” muttered Lexa as she closed her eyes and pressed her nose into Clarke’s neck, inhaling in the warm scent of her salty skin.

“Whatever you say, Heda.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?

**Author's Note:**

> Would love to know what you think. Oh and naturally, I don't own the characters, nor am I making a profit on this. No one would buy this trash. :P


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